The Unexpected Vanguard: A Hopepunk Epic Fantasy trilogy for fans of The Lies of Locke Lamora and Six of Crows. In Book 2 - The Siremirian Conundrum, A found family of unremarkables is forced into a high-stakes game of cat-and-mouse after unwittingly stealing a powerful meteorite from an evil and vengeful mark.
The Siremirian Conundrum is a serialized novel. If you’re new here, go back and read Book 1 - The Glimmerstone Enigma, first!
[View the Table of Contents for The Siremirian Conundrum]
Bird slipped through the crowded commercial streets of the southern quarter, pulling his hood up before exiting the alleyway between a feed store and a bakery. Better to be discreet and unmemorable. He winced as his claw idly traced the edges of the cold, serpentine figurine in his pocket. I don’t like stealing from a friend, but this week’s purse is very light, and it’s unlikely to be missed.
Shaped like an owl, his first thought, when he saw it on a shelf in Segwyn’s summer cabin, had been to present it to Lunish as part of a gag, commemorating her recent successes in owl form. Upon closer inspection, the soft green stone revealed signs of fine craftsmanship, sharp relief, and exquisite polish. His plan changed immediately, and the statuette disappeared into the folds of his leathers.
The tabby’s eyes darted through the crowd, scanning every passerby for an accessible and poorly guarded coin purse as he picked his way into the eastern quarter. Maybe I won’t have to sell it if I can secure a couple of last-minute contributions. From their garb, he could tell these were mostly working-class folks going about their daily lives—a dwarven woman walking a small dog, a human man eating a sandwich on a roadside bench—slim pickings. I’d have been better off scouting targets in the commercial quarter.
Keeping the fort on his left, Bird threaded his way through the residential streets until he crossed an alley that dead-ended against the sandstone fortification. Two half-ogres were busy unloading ale kegs from a cart through the side door of a pub on the corner called The Den. More importantly, the tabby’s eyes locked on a plump-looking satchel casually draped over one hip. Maybe this isn’t their first delivery of the day. Now, how to get it?
The cat inched forward into the alley, pulling up behind a pile of discarded wooden crates and pallets, and watched. The brutes hefted the first keg from the cart’s frame, shuffling awkwardly through the narrow door. He glanced up at the second-story overhang. Child’s play. When the pair reemerged, Bird leaned forward onto his rear toe pads, legs tensing in anticipation.
Fighting his unflattering physique, the satchel carrier heaved himself up into the vehicle’s cargo area with a groan before rolling a second keg to his partner, returning to the ground just as clumsily. Bird heard them count to three. Keg balanced precariously between them; the pair started to waddle toward the open door. Now! The tabby launched himself from cover, a dagger flashing in his right hand. Before they took their third step, he was on them. In one smooth motion, he grabbed the satchel, cleanly severing the straps.
“Hey! Stop! Terry!” the burly ogre shouted, unable to do much more without dropping the precious cargo.
In one step, Bird’s momentum took him onto the cart bed. His second brought him onto the wagon’s front frame behind the horses. Returning the dagger to its sheath, movement flashed on his left—a lanky teenager with dirty blond hair, brandishing a dagger of his own. Where did he come from? No matter.
Shifting the satchel into his teeth, Bird leapt for the overhang. It was solidly built. Rot was often a concern with older buildings. Extending the claws on his feet, the cat scrambled onto the roof with ease.
From below, he heard the half-ogre once more. “Get him, Terry!”
Two steps across the roof, he felt the structure flex beneath his feet. Looking back, Terry’s fingers gripped the overhang from below, attempting to follow. Transferring the bag to his left hand, his right reached for the handle of a katana over his shoulder. Is this kid crazy or just dumb? I could drop his head off like a melon the moment he lifts himself over the edge. He hesitated, finally shaking his head and letting his hand drop.
The cat turned on his heel and took off across the flat rooftop of the pub, easily leaping to the next building, and the next, before risking a look back. Terry had managed to scramble onto the roof of the pub and immediately took up the pursuit. Bird could hear the muffled shouts of encouragement from his colleagues below. The kid’s got balls, I’ll give him that.
Across the rooftops they went. Never able to gain any ground on the cat, Terry, nonetheless, wouldn’t give up, shouting threats and obscenities between ragged breaths. Mildly amused, Bird toyed with the lad, never really pushing himself or dropping onto all fours for a burst of feline speed that would rapidly end the chase. Up ahead, he saw the opportunity for a graceful exit.
Three buildings over, the pitched peak of a temple rose above the flat rooftop landscape. On its far side, a much wider alley separated it from its neighbor. Okay, Terry, let’s see your dismount. Without breaking stride, Bird launched himself at the steep slope. Leaning his weight forward, his rear claws raked the terracotta tiles with a squeaking whine after he hit the pitched clay surface. Sliding two feet down its face before his body stilled, he nimbly scuttled back up to straddle the peak and await his pursuer, a challenging smirk on his face.
Terry stopped short, fuming and cursing, suddenly less confident in his ability. Bird widened his grin, tipped an imaginary hat, and raced down the sloped pitch before launching himself across the wider alley. He had no hope of catching the roofline. Between the distance and the lower edge of the temple’s slanted roof, he was going to hit the wall of the adjacent building. Extending his claws, the cat stuck fast to the wood sheathing. Minute adjustments of his rear toes triggered a slow slide down the wall before Bird stepped calmly onto the ground. One final look at Terry, his mouth agape in astonishment, brought a smile to the tabby’s face before he rounded the corner out of sight.
Two blocks down, he dipped into another alley to privately take a look at his prize. Opening the satchel, his brow furrowed, his lip quivering into a growl.
“Gondammit!” he snarled, fishing through the contents. “After all of that, eight coppers, one silver, an apple, and an onion?”
He tossed the onion down the alley in disgust, watching it bounce twice before rolling to a stop against a pile of refuse. Tucking the coins into his pocket, the cat took an aggressive bite of the apple and exited the alley, his shoulders slumped.
As he turned into the north quarter, the change was palpable. Commercial warehouses replaced the residential buildings. Storefronts and businesses of all kinds dotted both sides of the road. These didn’t have the polish and prestige of the southern quarter, however. Hand-painted signs and general disrepair told him this part of town was less about image and more about outcomes. The fur on the back of his neck prickled with an apprehension of observation from unseen eyes in various positions.
Finding the Guild was easy enough when you knew what to look for—a subtle symbol etched into a wall, masquerading as graffiti. But first, the meagre takings from the alley left no choice but to sell the owl. He would have preferred to flog it in the Southern quarter, but that was too risky with the others nearby. This part of town wasn’t concerned with origin or provenance, which suited him fine, but that underlying assumption of illegality also affected the price.
Seeing a sign with the words “Elda’s Emporium” across the street, Bird made for the entrance. An overhead bell trilled brightly when he opened the door, taking in an interior cluttered with objects of all types. A flash at his feet revealed a magical glyph carved into the stone floor inside the threshold. Theft prevention, no doubt. The scent of sage and sandalwood incense grew stronger as he strolled towards the back of the shop.
A thin, disembodied voice called from the rear, muffled by the dense inventory of eclectic objects crowding the space. “Can I help you?”
A small halfling woman shuffled out from behind a stack of old books, her shoulders hunched with age. Her eyes, however, returned a youthful twinkle as their gaze met.
“Elda?” Bird asked
“Yes. Can I help you find something?” she replied.
“Actually, I have something to sell.” The cat reached into his pocket and held up the serpentine owl between his thumb and forefinger.
Her eyes narrowed as she took in the statuette. Clucking her tongue, she turned on her heel and headed deeper into the shop. “Come with me. Let’s take a proper look at that.”
She led him to a low table before taking a seat. Snapping her fingers, a small globe of light materialized overhead, bathing the table’s surface in a warm glow. She looked at Bird expectantly, gently patting the tabletop. The tabby gave her a long look before setting the green statuette down. He watched silently as the halfling twirled the stone owl nimbly between her fingers, examining it from every angle.
“You don’t mind if I cast Identify on this, do you, just to confirm its composition?”
Bird’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Alright, but be aware that I am familiar with the spell. No funny business!”
Elda clucked her tongue again. “You have no idea how often people try to pass off junk with illusions, just being cautious.”
Bird nodded as she began the casting ritual, his hand casually sliding toward the pommel of the dagger underneath his cape. Recognizing the material components and the movements from Whydah’s use of the same spell, he relaxed as the owl cascaded a burst of pink arcane motes onto the table’s surface after she finished.
A long moment passed before she looked up, her face expressionless. “Best I can do is fifteen hundred.” The tabby recoiled, surprised by her words. Mistaking his reaction for disappointment, Elda continued. “Look, I know it would cost triple that to buy, but I have no idea where you got it, or how, and I have to manage the risk of its previous owner turning up on my doorstep to take it back. Plus, there isn’t exactly a big market for a Figurine of Wondrous Power around this town.” She offered an apologetic shrug while her lips stretched into a grimace. “It will take me a long time to sell it.”
Recovering from the initial shock, Bird nodded, holding out his open palm. “That was a lot less than I was expecting,” he lied. “I’ll need to think about it.”
Elda nodded, dropping the serpentine owl into his palm. “The offer is good for the rest of the day.”
The tabby turned to go, slipping the figurine safely back into his leathers before changing his mind and pivoting back. “Could you tell me what it can do?” he asked the shopkeeper.
“You didn’t know it was magical, did you?” she guessed, reading his face. Bird silently shook his head.
She took a deep breath, her brows arching as she looked up at him from her seat at the table. “It will cost you a silver, for my troubles,” she offered.
The tabby plunked ten coppers down on the table in two tidy stacks.
The elderly halfling nodded in confirmation. “When you toss it on the ground and speak its name, the figurine transforms into a living giant owl for up to 8 hours. It will obey your commands and can communicate telepathically with its master. Once it’s used, two days must pass before using it again.”
“What’s its name?” Bird pressed her.
The shopkeeper raised an eyebrow and dipped her head toward the stack of coins, tapping twice on the table’s surface. Bird let out a sigh and flipped a silver coin into the air. It landed on edge next to the two stacks of coppers with a bright ring, bouncing back and forth momentarily before going still.
“Ho,” was all she said.
“Ho? The owl’s name is Ho?” Bird repeated incredulously.
The old woman shrugged. “Don’t look at me, I didn’t name it!”
“Thanks,” he said before turning and heading for the door.
“Offer’s good until sundown.” He heard her call from the rear of the shop. Stepping over the arcane glyph in the floor, his paw paused on the door, claws drumming indecisively against the portal’s wooden frame.
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Writing The Unexpected Vanguard Trilogy began as an experiment while I was between jobs, and has turned into a labor of love and many late nights. My goal is to keep the entire series free to read in serial format.
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