Private Pot of Greed

[Juusha Khuam]

---

The city of Sonshan, capital of Aetochi.

It is about mid-morning, late summer. A cool mist lays overtop the roofs of Sonshan's lower neighborhoods, obscuring the city's higher mountain districts.​

---

"Huh, what's going on in there?"
"Over there, on the other side of the wall!"
"I think its a shaman!"
"No way, move over so I can see!"

A group of men gathered outside the window of a low-slung brick building, chattering amongst themselves as they vied for a good view inside. Within, blades clashed and curses flew. It looked to be one sword against a few clubs and knives, but it was difficult to tell in the dark of the abandoned building.

One of the men shouted in alarm, and the rest ducked away from the window as a woman leapt feet-first out the window and over the onlooker's heads. A ceramic pot was clutched against her chest. She landed in the middle of the loose cobble street, and shifted her balance into a run before her second foot could touch the ground. Grey robes tied with red string billowed behind her, and she was gone out of view even as her pursuers piled half out of the window after her.

"You lot," called the first thug to hitch her leg over the window and climb out onto the street. Sweat beaded on her brow, a scratch across her cheek bled, and she was panting heavily. She pointed a metal club at the onlookers. "Which way did she go?"

The men all looked at each other.

"Did anyone see her emblem?" Whispered one.
"Iron Clan," another answered.

The words seemed to settle a resolve amongst the men. Someone pointed in the opposite direction that the woman in the black robes had gone. He spoke loud enough for the gathering warriors to hear. "We saw the cat go that way, ma'am!"

---

Some hours later, in the afternoon.​

---

A cart rolled down the bumpy street. Feet dangling out the back, Juusha bumped along with it. She held a broken piece of pottery in her hand, a look of utter misery etched upon her face. Just her luck, that the pot would break as soon as she lost those goons. With the vessel shattered and the cursed Raakgui that had been stored within freed to roam the city, she had no hope of completing her mission.

At least, not alone.

The cart stopped, its iron-wrapped wheels sticking into a rut between the cobble. Juusha stashed the broken shard into the folds of her robes, and hopped off the cart. "Wait here," she told the driver, who tipped his straw hat in understanding. The dusty blue bird hitched to the cart chirped, as if it was giving its response as well.

Before her, a multi-story building rose up on decorated pillars. The building was old, but fresh coats of paint and plaster gave it a look of glamour that it didn't have. Gold curtains hung over the open doorway, embroidered with gaudy depictions of turtles and coins. People lounged about on balconies above, smoking and laughing with each other. Juusha approached the entrance, and was stopped by a broad-shouldered orkin woman.

"Did a man enter here, with a serpent tattoo, and silver scars upon his face?" she asked the bouncer.

"Mayhaps," the woman said. "What's he to you?"

Juusha's ears twitched back in annoyance. "The only person in Sonshan who can help me."

 

[Hazanko Miya]

"Come on, come on," A man muttered as he clenched tight his fist. "Even! Even!" he shout as the dice dealer held firm the upturned cup that hid their collective fate.

"Odd," another man with silver scars across his face said coolly. His eyes never opened to the spectacle that played out before him, and he nursed a hot drink in one hand.

"Even with sixes!"

"Odds with a seven!"

"Come all, come all, place your bets!" an attendant woman egged on, her features stretched wide with a greasy amusement. A club hung proudly at her hip, and they fanned themselves with a wide paper fan, old and marked with small pocks.

A pair of shamisen players plucked a jaunty tune towards the back of the smoke filled room, where another crowd gathered round their small stage to share in the ambience and talk about their business.

Wooden blocks clapped a sharp report. Last call for bets.

The dice dealer never broke their concentration. Brow down fixed, arm flexed strong as her fingers held tight the cup, and her expression kept stony.

The wooden blocks clapped again. And the dealer revealed the dice. A puff of cool mist swirled about the bottom of the cup.

The man with the silver scars grinned.

"One and six! Odd!"

 

[Juusha Khuam]

Juusha stood nearby, leaning up against a pillar, watching the man gamble and win. Groans went through the crowd, as they paid for their reckless bets. A lucky few earned themselves a handful of coins, which they immediately put on other numbers.

But the dice dealer would not roll another set for a few minutes yet. She was taking a break, as one of the betting attendants handed her a pipe to puff on. The excitement ebbed, as men and women stepped away to refresh their drinks, or watch the musicians in their small corner.

"The morning mists burned off hours ago." Juusha's voice cut through the chatter of the patrons. She had come to stand right above the silver-scarred man. Her tail flicked sharply, as a hapless patron bumped into her. She brushed the intruder off and continued. "Yet here you remain. Are you looking for Raakgui in the bottom of that cup?"

 

[Hazanko Miya]

"Ah, for the glitter of coin, shines so sweet," the man with the silver scars said, eyes squinted happily as he scooped up the bits of copper and silver.

The morning mists burned off hours ago,

His spine stiffened, and his eyes flit toward the hard voice. What cheer had curled the corner of his turned down to bitterness, the corner of his eyes pulled tight with scrutiny.

"A Raakgui of coin, and good fortune," he said tersely.

A little puff of mist clouded at his shoulder. A squat figure, with pale blue skin, and wide golden eyes sat upon the plane of his frame. A little frog spirit. It croaked its little song.

The man's lips spread with smug confidence. "Ah, there it is," and he finished scooping his winnings into his coin purse. Pulled the strings tight, and worked himself up from the bamboo sitting mat.

He would have turned to leave, but noticed his half full cup still down on the mat. He bent low, and picked up the clay cup, downed the drink, and handed it off the to overly serious cat-kin. "Here," he said brusquely. "Might still be a raakgui there at the bottom of this cup too," The little frog hopped from his shoulder and disappeared with a chirrup.

 

[Juusha Khuam]

Enough ceramics had been dropped for the day, and so Juusha caught the cup that was shoved towards her, eyes widening out of her scowl and ears perking up in concentration. Both hands held gingerly onto it, before she realized what she was doing.

"Hey, wait!" Juusha tossed the cup at an attendant who was passing by, and went after the shaman making his exit. She stopped on the stone steps of the gambling house, and called out to him before he went into the street. "Hazanko Miya! I know who you are, Mistborne. And I wish my sources were less accurate, but they're always right, so I know you're a damned legend."

She took the steps down three at a time, and swished to a stop in front of Miya, blocking his path.

"There's a a cursed spirit roaming this district, one that must be contained before it claims any victims. And --" Juusha's eyes squeezed shut as she scrunched up her face. She balled her fists at her sides, and tapped her bootheels down once onto the cobblestone. "And I need your help!"

Someone like her, a blade from the Iron clan, could only cut up a Raakgui into a thousand pieces. They weren't any good at catching or calming spirits. This part could be extrapolated.

 

[Hazanko Miya]

He didn't wait. His strides saw him out the door, and down the steps with a quickness, his hand busy as it worked his scarf over the lower half of his face, thumb sliding across fine fabric, hooked to pull it over the top of his head.

She called out his name, called out his title. That got him to stop. When she appeared before him, he stared down at her, cold and removed.

A few of those around slowed to gawk at the scene.

Whispers of Mistborne and Ironborne.

"Do you think she will take his head?"

"Spirits above and below,"

Hazanko's stare did not break from the woman's. He smirked. He chuckled. His eyes squint shut, and his shoulders bounced as he doubled over. Laughed louder and louder.

The onlooker's shook their head in confusion and ambled on.

 

[Juusha Khuam]

Too long of a time passed without the shaman saying anything. Juusha felt herself growing hotter under his gaze, but she didn't stop her stubborn glare upwards. Ears swiveled at the sound of passersby muttering gossip to each other, and she was about to turn round and tell them off, when Miya did something unexpected.

He laughed.

"What's so funny!?" she spat out. Juusha growled a cat-growl in turn, the hairs on her tail poofing out. "People could be in danger, and you're laughing?"

 

[Hazanko Miya]

He wheezed as he gathered himself up. Wiped a tear from his eye.

"Yeah?" he said, half grinning as his mouth hung open and he flicked the wet away. "Why don't you go and cut it down then," he showed his teeth. "Ironborne?"

He finished putting his hood up over his head.

"You could care less about the dear, people," his smirk was hidden, but the satisfaction showed in his eyes. "You have a contract you are trying to fulfill, and you are seeing if I'll help you out of the goodness of my blooded heart,"

He stepped around her, and made away once more. "Sides," he said over his shoulder. "You don't much look like you can afford a legend,"

 

[Juusha Khuam]

Fur smoothed over and hackles lowered as soon as Juusha realized her ploy had been exposed. (Vainly, she wondered if it would have worked, had she been a couple of years younger.) Almost immediately, her posture shifted. She stood relaxed and proud, her palms held open at her side, swaying lightly next to her swords.

Of course, he was right. There wasn't an innocent shaman left on this island. People just couldn't go through what they did, and come out the other end happy.

She fell into step behind the mistborne, no longer trying to overtake him, but not letting him dodge away either. "It would certainly pay better than swindling dice dealers out of their pocket change."

The cart driver that had taken her here spluttered as the two marched past his bird. "Hey miss, do you still want me to wait for ya?" he called after her.

Juusha ignored the driver. "The Raakgui that escaped belongs to one of the Intendant families." She quickened her pace to get closer to the man, and lowered her voice. "Imagine the consequences, then, if word gets out that the family's blessing comes from a Cursed, and not a Divine spirit. Even the commoners will be able to tell the difference, with it running loose like this."

 

[Hazanko Miya]

Hazanko made a sounds of feigned agreement. "Be a whole lot more work, too," he grumbled. Made his way down a set of stone steps that took them off the main street and down an alley between the old brick buildings.

"Of the Eight Intendant families housed at court, three keep cursed spirits," he said as his fingers found a loose brick. He pressed the brick down, and a small portion of the wall slid away. Inside the cache lay a sheathed sword and dagger, along with an ornate bow, and a quiver full of arrows. He made quick work slipping them on. He stopped, fastned his sword and dagger to his hip. Eyed the woman. "Which one are you dealing with?"

 

[Juusha Khuam]

At the mention of the eight families, Juusha let out a huff of air.

She'd turned her back to keep watch over the alley's entrance while Miya recovered his hidden weapons. Even a washed up scoundrel like him deserved to have some secrets respected.

"Aembi, great spirit of greed." She turned back round to face the newly equipped shaman. The shadow of her hat left her face as she tilted her chin upwards. Red eyes flashed in the midday sun, eager. "Don't ask me what it does. It's never supposed to leave its jar, after all."

 

[Hazanko Miya]

"Aembi," he said with a measure of awe in his voice, his attention back to getting the measure of his gear just right. "So, the Rakugan family has lost the great toad," he smirked, and slipped his unstrung bow onto his back. "Here I heard, they'd hired an Ironborne to transport it," his eyes checked her once more. "Pot and all,"

 

[Juusha Khuam]

"Not transport it, recover it," Juusha corrected. "If it had already been in my possession, then I wouldn't have--"

She snapped her teeth shut before she could say it. I wouldn't have dropped it.

"Investigative work is not necessary." she started again. "I only need your help to contain Aembi, I can find it on my own. So keep your mouth shut until we get there."

Avoiding that smug look the old shaman gave her, Juusha turned on her heels. She kept her chin up high as she stepped out of the alleyway.

 

[Hazanko Miya]

"Bold of you to assume I'll help," he said as she left the alleyway.

From a swirl of mist at his shoulder appeared the small frog, blue skinned and white spotted. It made its little kirrup.

"Suppose there is no accounting for fools though," he smirked, stretched his arms, twist his hips, and made after her. The little frog vanished.

"Huh, boss, you, sure we can trust that Kazumichi?" A tall man stalked behind a squat dwarf woman.

"No, Feng, we can't trust, Kazumichi, the bastard is Mist clan, but what choice do we have?" she grumbled as she went on, down the busy streets. Her and her crew were dressed in common garb, no seals or insignia to mark them. "But, can't right track raakgui as well as he can, can we?"

Feng gave a meek nod, which had the small tuft of hair atop his mostly bald head bob. "R-right, that makes sense boss,"

"And the newt won't try anything funny, because he owes us,"

"And we have his brother," the big one added.

The dwarf woman hooked at the big man's leg with a grunt.

"Owe!"

"Shut up! You talk to damn much," she huffed. "You don't see Long running his mouth all the time, do you?"

Long, was as tall as Feng, near half as wide, with gaunt sunken features. He only nod, and set his long braid of black hair to motion.

Up ahead, a scarfed figure stood before an abandoned apartment complex. "It's here," his voice was quiet and sullen.

"Better be," the dwarf woman said. "Well, go on then, Kazumichi," she grinned. "Lead the way,"

Kazumichi shut his eyes, took in a breath, and pulled forth a paper talisman from his sleeve. He held it out before him, between his forefinger and middle, and it stayed tall and straight. Ink characters began to pour across its plane, symbols and seals. One, the largest, in the shape of an eye. A snap of his wrist saw the talisman streak forward.

It hit the far wall of the room, and plastered itself upward. Its seals glowed blue. Kazumichi drew another talisman from his sleeve as he entered the room.

The dwarf and her two associates followed after.

It was from the vantage point of a nearby rooftop that Hazanko and his own associate watched the scene unfold. "Heh," he laughed. "You didn't mention anything about rival shaman, little miss," he drew his bow from his back, and took an arrow from one of the six divided chambers of his quiver. Knocked it. "Guess I shouldn't be surprised though," he looked across the way, raised up the bow, and let fly the arrow.

It plunked into a column of wood that showed on the exterior façade. Script along its shaft burned blue, and the wood caught flame. Characters and seals spread out like roots from a tree from the embedded stone arrowhead, until they formed a circular seal of ash.

"Lot of money to be made on a spirit like Aembi," he grinned, wide and with excitement. "Shame to see Kazumichi mixed in with a lot like that though," he tut his tongue. "Pups gotta learn some day though,"

He made to move. Remembered something.

"Well, you ready?"

 

[Juusha Khuam]

A huff of air left Juusha as the old shaman blabbered on. Squat low atop the roof, she watched as Miya sealed the complex down. Her ears were flat against her head. "I didn't mention the hunters because they won't be a problem."

She said it so surely, but of course nothing was sure with a spirit this large at stake. Her eyes widened to thin red rings as she watched the rival shaman disappear into the half-rotted entrance of the abandoned apartments. They all looked pretty manageable, except for that fellow that the old shaman identified as Kazumichi.

"I am ready," she said, without so much as a nod. "Keep your concerns on Aembi. I will make sure those lot do not get in the way."

She readied to go, but something had her pause. A hand went to her sword as she looked up at Miya from underneath ragged bangs. It was the longer blade her fingers wrapped around, cast of steel, a silver bell charm dangling from its pommel. "You don't have any attachments to this Kazumichi, do you? I am bound to kill anyone who risks harm upon the great spirit. Even a cursed Raakgui is holy, after all."