(Untitled)

[halls_of_mandos]

Since it has been decided these two must be around...

Námo and Nerdanel are on a sofa together.

Their eyes are on the door.

Worried eyes.

Haunted eyes.

Comments

[finds_it]

"This you?"

The note had mentioned a missing kid and after the mess with "Mrs. Barrett", I was running low on cash. Sure; I'd heard about the no business rule, but I've never been one to obey the rules anyway.

[halls_of_mandos]

Námo blinks at the newcomer.

This was...

"If you are referring to the theft of our son, yes," he says tiredly.

Nerdanel, on the other hand, continues to look into her mug of tea as if it held answers for her.

[finds_it]

I nod.

"Yeah, someone's missing."

I give them both a sideways look. I'm not going to lay it on too thick, cause these folks just look like they've been through hell and back, but I'd rather check. Sometimes a man has enemies he didn't know he had.

"Ever heard the name John Taylor before?"

[halls_of_mandos]

He shakes his head.

"No. Should we have?"

Námo wonders vaguely if he's missed something important.

[finds_it]

"Possibly," I answer. Sometimes a reputation was worth it's salt and sometimes it was even more trouble. I scratch my chin.

"But if you need something found, I'm the man to come to. Anybody in the Nightside'll tell you I can find anything. Anything, any universe."

[sael_nerdanel]

Now Nerdanel looks up, red-rimmed grey eyes hopeful.

"You can find Feaho?" she says with a rough voice.

Námo gives him a sharp look. Nerdanel was hurting enough, he didn't want someone to falsely raise her hopes. "What is the Nightside?" he questions.

"Who cares," she hisses at Námo. "If he can find him--"

"What is the Nightside?" Námo repeats, ignoring her.

[finds_it]

"It's the secret heart of London. If you've ever heard London called the Smoke? The Nightside's the Fire. Everything you've ever dreamed of is there, real enough to touch and real enough to make you bleed. Anything you could ever want is for sale there; the price can be anything from a dollar to a bottle of Sin but it always seems to end up being your soul. It's life without the safety on, fierce and dreamlike and real and unreal and hard and painful and perfect; you'll never be so high and you'll never fall so low as you will in the Nightside."

I give them a smile. It's not really a nice smile, but when it comes to things like this, people aren't looking for nice. They're looking for capable.

"And anybody there'll tell you; you want something found, you find John Bloody Taylor."

I scratch my chin.

"And then get out of the way."

[halls_of_mandos]

Námo raises a brow.

He hadn't even heard of London other than a vacation destination in the Seventh Age of his own world.

So.

"And everything comes with a price," Námo replies. He knows. He's made his own bargains before. "What is yours?"

[finds_it]

"Just money."

I'm a simple man, really. I just want to be able to pay my bills on time and afford a brandy or two at Alex's bar. This place was okay, but the barstaff was far too nice. Not a real bar at all, after Strangefellows.

"Though I'm all right with negotiating the fee afterwards."

A kid who could think and act and run away? Then I'd sit and quibble. But this was a baby and that kid, whoever he was, hadn't had anything to do with what was going on other than someone had taken him. I've seen a lot... but I don't tolerate that shit.

[halls_of_mandos]

Money wasn't a problem.

For either of them.

"Money can be given. Whatever fee you want, now or then, can be delivered. I do not care about money. I am a god. What use do I have of money?"

[finds_it]

"You'd be surprised," I answer, thinking of Herne the Hunter. Last I heard, he was living in a cardboard box only just this side of Blaiston Street. Even the mighty fall sometimes in the Nightside and they never fall so hard any place else.

"But tell me about the kid. Give me something to focus on and--"

And I consider the Harrowing for a moment.

"And if you're a god, see if you can run interference if anyone comes a calling while I'm looking."

[halls_of_mandos]

"Run interference?" he asks. What the hell? "And what do you need to know?"

Nerdanel looks back to him. "What kind of thing you need to focus on?"

[finds_it]

"Something like hair or something they held onto for a long time," though I'm wondering what sort of god doesn't know the basics of sympathetic magic. "And if you know which way they might have gone, that'd help too."

Truth to tell, I didn't need all that stuff. It just made it easier.

"As for the interference, there're these things that like to show up when I use my Gift. Keep em off my back while I'm working if you can."

If this god can't, I'll deal with it, but if I could get someone else to handle it, it would be great. They should have been put off my scent by now, after all. I hadn't used my talent in a month or more.

[halls_of_mandos]

Nerdanel gets up, heading toward the stairs.

"She will bring back something of Gabriel's," he says. "I can do that," in reference to keeping things off this man's back.

As for sympathetic magic? Námo hadn't know the word 'sympathetic' until nine months ago, so it's a learning experience. His own magics were drastically different from most gods' anyway.

"We do not know who has him or where they have gone. They remained for a few days in Milliways, then left. I can... sense him... relatively speaking... but I cannot find him."

[finds_it]

I nod.

"Well, if I give you a location, can you get us there? I'm not so good with the interdimensional travel and I dont feel like heading to Cheyne Walk at the moment."

[halls_of_mandos]

"If you can tell me where he is, I can get us there, yes," he says with certainty. If he knows, he can go, as he'd explained to Asar-Suti earlier. At the moment, though, he doesn't know. "I want to know who took him," he almost growls, his anger rising again.