It Was All About The Hat - Part 1
Nov. 17th, 2022 04:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rix_scaeduMarisa Tormald marched into the offices of the Gullhaven Announcer and walked straight up to the desk of her friend, Artemius Inkman. Artemius ran both the Announcer and its associated printing business out of a building on Bornmal Street that sat across the road from the small school they had both attended as children. Marisa lived two blocks away in the house she shared with her mother, where they persuaded rare seeds to sprout and grow successfully into exotic plants for the magical trade.
"I need to place an advertisement in the next edition of the Announcer," she told him without preliminaries, "and get a stack of flyers printed up."
"Good morning to you too, Marisa," replied Artemius as he put down his correcting pen. "What's gone wrong?"
Marisa stopped in mid agitation. "I'm sorry, I was rude, wasn't I? It's just that we were burgled last night, and one of the things that was taken was Mother's hat."
"I'm so sorry." Artemius stood up. "Are you both alright? Was much taken?"
"Not much - but everything that was taken was magical." Marisa bit her bottom lip before she went on. "We think whoever it was used some soporific on the house because none of us woke up, and they took Great-grandfather Tormald's watch chain with the loud anti-theft alarm on it."
"I remember that chain," replied Artemius. He paused and then said slowly, "It was so loud that when Billy Nole tried to take it that time, people heard the chain calling out two blocks away. Whoever took it either had a way of smothering the sound or the chain thought they were entitled to have it."
"I hadn't thought of that," admitted Marisa. "What with the upset of knowing that someone has been in the house while we were asleep, all our little magical trinkets taken, and their main value is their sentiment because they are only trinkets, and the worry about the hat."
"What about the hat? Won't you sit down?" He walked around the desk and pulled up a chair for her.
Marisa sat down without looking at what she was doing and clutched her handbag on her lap. As Artemius went to sit back in his own seat she said, "The problem with the hat is that we don't know what the magic on it does. That's why it wound up in our branch of the family - it's supposed to have been made by one of my mother's nastier and more manipulative relatives a few generations back and we've got less magic than anyone else in the connection for it to mess with."
"I thought that would have made you more vulnerable," interjected Artemius.
"Possibly," conceded Marisa, "but the lady in question had a reputation for drawing on other people's power. We have so little that we'd give her hardly anything to work with and might not even interest her. What we need to do now," she went on firmly, "is put out a warning so people know to avoid it."
"The thief is hardly likely to bring it back," pointed Artemius.
"I know that," snorted Marisa, "but it will tell anyone else with magical ability that the hat is dangerous."
"Surely you mean potentially dangerous?" Artemius knew how to ask a leading question.
"It's never done anything that we've noticed," she agreed, "but we never get rats or mice in the house either. Cats and dogs won't stay. We've never tried to have a pet bird or fish. There's also the possibility that it hasn't done anything to us because we're family."
"I see." Artemius turned to a clean sheet of paper and picked up his pen. "How do you want to start this?"
BEWARE
A magical hat of unquantified power, abilities, and
proclivities has been stolen from the owner's
residence, and its current location is unknown. The
owner takes no responsibility for the hat's actions
while it remains out of their possession.
The hat presents as an oversized lady's straw hat
with an eight joint brim. It is liberally decorated with
both pink and yellow cabbage roses, and a taxidermied
golden bat.
If found, do not attempt to touch the hat. Do not attempt to
destroy the hat - magical protections are in place. Contact
this newspaper and the owner will arrange collection.
The typesetter finished setting up the advertisement on the front page of the paper and asked, "Are you sure this is what you want to say?"
"Yes," replied Marisa firmly. "We are not offering a reward for its return, and we don't want people to aggravate it - one of my skilled aunts tried to dismantle it when it was found during the clean-up after my great-grandmother died and it took her weeks to recover."
"People are still going to want a reward," pointed out Artemius, again. "It goes with a certain mind set."
"I'm sufficiently close to being a witch that I think that the only reward they should get is to be the new custodians of the hat," retorted Marisa. "Of course, if after a time they don't want to be custodians of the hat we might be persuaded to take it back for a suitable consideration."
"I thought you didn't want the hat to hurt anyone," commented Artemius.
"I don't," replied Marisa. "But I can't stop people from being stupid after I've warned them that something is dangerous. After a certain point, they become responsible for their own consequences."
"We could open a betting book for the office on the replies we get," suggested the typesetter. "Actual type and colour of flower. Bat type and colour. Whether the hat is actually magical. How many ask for a reward, or for compensation because their goat or family member ate it.""
Marisa replied cautiously, "It is possible that the right sort of goat could eat it with no ill effects. There are several herds with documented otherworldly origins, but I think the nearest one is at the Cachucan temple in Mhorhill." The two men looked at her with a slightly stunned air. "The herd is supposed to be descended from the goats that pull the war god Dachan's chariot and sledge. I may not have much magic, but my magical education was quite comprehensive."
"Are the war brothers likely to claim that one of their goats ate the hat?" Artemius sounded oddly fascinated.
"I'd like to think not, because they are moral religious figures and there was a theft," replied Marisa carefully. "On the other hand, their pantheon does include a trickster god and a god of thieves, either of whom could have followers who might steal magical items from non-believers and then dump the evidence on the war brothers."
Artemius asked her, "I don't suppose you'd care to write an outsiders' guide to the Cachuan faith, would you? I must admit that I didn't know anything about it beyond the battle brothers until just now. It's not popular in these parts."
"I suppose it was included in my studies because their gods keep showing up on a regular basis," replied Marisa. "When gods manifest, then magic gets a little intense. Things that can be used to create magical effects, magical items, or even magic itself can be left behind. Some of the plants my mother and I grow had their origins from seeds attached to a mantle a god threw down or from plants that grew fully formed where they walked upon the earth."
The next edition of the Gullhaven Announcer was printed that night and began distribution in the wee small hours of the morning. By the time Artemius arrived at the office to open the advertising desk and make sure that the night workers had all gone home, there was a small group of professional reward collectors waiting for him. In reply to the first gruff enquiry about how much the reward would be for the return of the hat, he said quite clearly, "The advertiser isn't offering a reward - just offering to rescue whoever took the hat from the consequences of their folly. Or remove a dangerous object from circulation. Take your pick."
"There's a market for dangerous objects," remarked Teddus Morkhame, a man vaguely connected with group that may have been a gang or a thieves' guild.
"So I hear," acknowledged Artemius cheerfully. "I gather this one may have some tendency to prey upon its possessor. And to have a history of actively resisting destruction. I imagine the cost of such things is quite high, to cover expenses. Expenses a person might want to avoid in the first place." He paused before adding, "Weeks of recovery time was mentioned. If anyone might have it and wants to get rid of it again, the custodian can come and collect it, with no questions asked."
"Custodian?" That came from a woman known for collecting everything she found on the streets up into the wheelbarrow she pushed in front of her.
"My interpretation of what I was told is that current custodians have it because the creator's family decided that they were the least likely to have anything that the hat was interested in, so they were safest from its activities." Artemius stretched his mouth into something that might have been a smile.
"And someone stole this...hat," put in Teddus thoughtfully.
"Yes," confirmed Artemius.
"I'll put the word around," replied Teddus rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Sounds like someone might have gotten themselves into a bit of trouble. Might need to check in on some of the lads."
"As I said, it can be collected, no questions asked," acknowledged Artemius. "Were there any other questions? Does anyone have a hat that they think might be the one?" He looked around, "No? The if you'll all excuse me, I need to open up the counter." He turned, opened the door, and went inside.
The office message and odd job boy won the sweep on when the first hat would arrive at the counter - half past nine by the office clock. It was a straw hat, but it was adorned with purple and lavender peonies and various accumulated spiderwebs with no roses or bats in sight. The owner was still trying to argue that the flowers were roses when the next two hats arrived - a bonnet that was trimmed with small, pink roses, and a girl's straw hat decorated with daisies. By the time Marisa arrived the counter had begun to look like a hat stall stocked with a generation out of date millinery.
"I came in to see if there had been any responses to the advertisement," Marisa said quietly to Artemius when she had pushed her way through the assembled members of the public. "I hadn't expected anyone to bring hats into your office. I am so sorry to have caused this fuss. None of these look anything like our hat."
"You should see this place at harvest time when we've been reduced to publishing a picture of a comical vegetable to fill in space," replied Artemius. "Won't you come through to this side of the counter where there's more room?"
As he opened the swinging part of the desk to let her through, someone in the crowd pushed her and Marisa stumbled front first into Artemius's chest. It was pleasanter than she would have expected, being suddenly pressed up against his person, and she blushed.
Artemius was surprised to suddenly have one of his best friends pressed along the length of his body, and in a way that made it quite clear that she was no longer the shape she had been when they had shared a schoolroom. The moment was suggesting all sorts of things to his senses that he had never associated with Marisa, and it was both a relief and a disappointment when she stepped back and broke contact with a softly voiced, "Oh, I am so sorry."
Her cheeks had flushed pink and Artemius was suddenly aware that parts of his person were considering being responsive to the situation. He flushed himself and replied, "It's quite all right. Not your fault at all. Are any of these hats yours?" He indicated the generally antiquated millinery on the other side of the counter, and said hats were suddenly thrust firmly in her direction.
Marisa surveyed them silently for a few minutes and considered the best way to phrase her denial. "I'm afraid that none of these are the hat that my mother inherited from her grandmother when she died. It's been in our house for over a decade, so I am quite clear on what it looks like. The other thing is that it's definitely a magical hat and most of these aren't."
Artemius looked at her and asked carefully, "What do mean that most of these aren't magical?"
"Most of them aren't," replied Marisa matter of factly. "The one with the yellow and orange lilies has probably been sitting next to something that is magical - it has a sort of transferred glow to it. " A tall, thin woman brandishing said summer hat garlanded with lilies suddenly looked askance, as if wondering what else was at home in the attic. "The one with red and black poppies though, that's definitely magical. I've no idea what it does though."
The stout, middle-aged woman holding the poppy-decorated hat looked put out. "Well, what am I supposed to do with it then?"
"I really couldn't tell you," replied Marisa. "You could put it back where you found it. If you want to know more about it than “it's magical” then I would recommend approaching Arcanum's on Milford Street - they can probably put you in contact with someone who's reliable, reputable, and can identify it."
"You're here now, why can't you do it?" The woman looked like she was about to pout.
"Because the limit of my ability is being able to tell that it is magical," said Marisa simply.
"Well, what's the use of that then?" demanded the woman.
"Exactly," agreed Marisa pleasantly. "My thoughts entirely. Arcanum's can put you in touch with someone much more useful than me. Now, unless one of you is hiding my family's hat behind your backs, I am going to consult with Mr Inkman on the printing of warning flyers." She flashed a smile at the crowd and waited. "There will not be a reward," she added firmly.
The crowd slowly melted out the door and onto the street outside.
Artemius waited until they were all outside before he commented, "Well, that could have gone worse. You sent them to Arcanum's?"
"I sent one of them to Arcanum's," corrected Marisa. "I'm sure they will be very helpful."
"We should sit at my desk and discuss whether you need flyers yet before the next batch arrives," suggested Artemius.
"The next batch?" Marisa looked at him, wide eyed.
"Yes. That was just the close by hopefuls who read the paper early this morning. News of a magical item being sought always brings out people who are after the reward they feel is implied by that news." He pulled up a visitor's chair for her at his desk. "I'd recommend that you don't get flyers printed up for a day or two yet. From the time they were trying to find Princess Madeline's magic slippers, I'd expect the last of the responses to today's advertisement to arrive in three days' time. Some of those will be people who've been going through their storage rooms and some of those will be people from places like Upper Wandlebury and Haddleburn who won't get today's paper until tomorrow and then will need the time to get here."
"Do people always react like this? Not following instructions?" Marisa was watching him set out coffee things for them both.
Artemius told her, "There's a fair number who think that magical families are rich, and that rich people don't understand the value of money. Many of them have no problem with trying to get the rich to hand over money they don't value. Turning up with a hat in hand is a strategy to exert pressure to extract at least part of the reward they think is implied."
"There are rich magical families," conceded Marisa, "but we're not one of them. Not even in the main branch. I mean, they exist, but most of us aren't de Britases or Pemlows."
"I don't think anyone who's up on current affairs would try and extract money out of a de Britas," commented Artemius as he made the coffee.
"I wouldn't try to scam money out of any Pemlow," retorted Marisa. "How they made their money in the first place was a story I got taught in the schoolroom."
Artemius poured out the coffee for the two of them and put the pot on the warmer for the rest of the staff to drink when they were ready. "Because I don't want to scam you out of your money, I would recommend against flyers for a few more days. If you could come down to the office a few times a day for the next few days, to clear out the persistently wrong and collect any leads, I would appreciate it." He passed her one of the partly filled cups so she could add milk and sugar.
"I will do that." She smiled at him, and he it occurred to him that she had a very nice smile. "I would be happier if we knew what the hat does. I'm not sure that Great-Grandmother knew, but I remember that there had been some fuss when the great-aunt she inherited it from died. Something about one of her cousins taking labels off things and mixing things up. Harsh words were repeated in retrospect. She sipped her drink and said, "You make good coffee."
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Date: 2022-11-17 08:41 pm (UTC):-)
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Date: 2022-11-17 09:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-11-17 09:32 pm (UTC)When they deliver the ransom note, they get laughed at. More-or-less "you have him, you can keep him".
Said son is more than a bit like Dennis the Menace.
In the end, they have to pay the family to take him back.
no subject
Date: 2022-11-17 09:34 pm (UTC)