After checking both sides of the alley one last ti to ensure there were no pedestrians, Jenkins whispered into the air.
"Mr. Stuart, my apologies for disturbing you after your death."
As he spoke, he patted Chocolate, letting the cat hop down from his shoulder, then crouched beside the chalk marks. He took a fountain pen from his pocket and wrote Mr. Stuart's na in the center of the spirit board, in a blank space among the decorative etchings of gravestones. He placed four small statuettes on it, then slowly infused it with his spirit.
That sa strange wind stirred again, its source unknown, instantly whipping the lighter pieces of trash in the alley into the air. But Jenkins had anticipated this. He imdiately opened a prepared umbrella and held it up as fruit pits and bits of gravel rattled against its surface. And then, the soul of the man who had taken his own life appeared before him.
Glancing from side to side, the spirit coughed, and Jenkins quickly asked in the standard language of the Kingdom,
"Mr. Stuart, before you died, you said you deeply regretted stealing that eye from the junk shop. Please, tell now, where is that shop located?"
This spirit was much less grotesque than the one that had been tornting Mr. Nelly, but two deep, dark tracks, like tears of blood, ran from where its eyes should have been.
The planchette guided Jenkins's fingers, moving swiftly until it had spelled out the complete address. While Jenkins didn't know the exact location where the stout woman had bought the comb, he rembered Hathaway ntioning a shop Miss Lindsay had frequented.
"It really is the sa shop," he mused. "Which ans it once had at least three supernatural items for sale, and made no effort at all to hide them..."
He fell into thought, sensing a great secret behind all of this. "Then again, it's none of my business!"
He held fast to Papa Oliver's words, warning himself not to let his curiosity get the better of him. But even if he didn't get involved, he had to stay vigilant and confirm whether that dangerous mirror was truly there.
He had intended to simply destroy Mr. Stuart's spirit, as was his custom, but since the man had helped him, he decided to go to the trouble of performing a purification ritual.
So-called purification was a simple ritual known to almost every Enchanter, specifically used to deal with spiritual entities lingering in the material world. Though Jenkins had never formally perford one, he certainly knew how.
Crouching down, he used a piece of ritual chalk to draw a circle on the ground with his bare hand—a feat he could now accomplish—and then inscribed four different runes at the circle's cardinal points.
These runes hailed from a lost civilization. While they couldn't compare to the arcane mystery of the Qiluo tongue, they were still the most commonly used set of runes.
Sending Mr. Stuart on his way went without a hitch. After the inexplicable wind blew past, the man's soul was gone. Jenkins sotis wondered where these vanished souls went, but after much thought yielded no answers, he had stopped trying to figure it out.
This world had no concept of reincarnation, so there was no need for Jenkins to offer any blessings. The sun had set completely, and he had to put on his glasses to clean up the marks on the ground. Even though it had been a while and it was unlikely anyone would notice, Jenkins was a man who maintained a cautious nature at all tis.
Since he was already out, he had no desire to head straight ho. He imdiately set off for the Hog's Head Bar, exchanged a quick greeting with the bartender, and made his way down to the underground black market.
He had to admit, the temperature inside the sewer pipes was even colder than it was above ground, but the strange stench had dissipated significantly.
When he'd left the house after dinner, he hadn't planned on buying anything. His visit to the black market was rely to restock so materials that were difficult to purchase through the Church.
The most important of these was scintillating obsidian. It was an excellent material for spiritual infusions, but its extre softness made it difficult to preserve and use for long periods. It was more commonly used as a consumable for Enchanters practicing their infusion rituals.
Jenkins had so money to spare recently and planned to stock up a good amount. After all, prices in the black market were rising rapidly with no sign of dropping.
While he waited for the vendor to prepare his order, he also looked around for the fossilized aquatic insect powder that Miss Miller had commissioned him to buy. It was sothing of a local specialty, found only in the seas near Nolan.
"Perhaps I could set up a trade of local specialties between Nolan and Ruen," he thought.
The idea imdiately made him want to laugh at himself. Rakul the Star Spirit was his friend; there was no need to turn a friend into a cargo hub just for the sake of a few gold pounds.
He enjoyed chatting with the black market rchants, as he always managed to pick up so interesting news. For instance, the rchant selling him the scintillating obsidian spoke with great envy about soone who had recently gone out to sea and bought a Magical Conch from an ordinary fisherman.
Jenkins had used one of those before, so he expressed his own profound envy.
The underground black market in Nolan was imnse. According to Papa Oliver, it was the largest black market for Enchanters in the entire eastern Fidektri Kingdom. Enchanters from all over the region would co here on a regular basis.
The entire city of Nolan was dotted with hidden entrances to the market, which made the whole place feel like a giant labyrinth. The area Jenkins frequented, however, was small—if viewed from the surface, it probably wouldn't exceed a two-block radius around the Hog's Head Bar.
Of course, he had no interest in exploring further today. After finishing his purchases, he summoned his starlight sphere and gave it a little shake. Finding nothing unusual, he prepared to leave.
The sewer walls were almost completely plastered with various papers. A large portion of them were trade requests, while a smaller number were wanted posters from the Orthodox Churches and the police departnt.
Near the wooden ladder leading up to the Hog's Head Bar, a new batch of wanted posters had recently been put up. The most eye-catching among them was the finely detailed portrait of the pirate, Femishue.
"It's been months now. I haven't heard a thing about him since that night. He's probably left Nolan by now."
He muttered to himself, staring for a mont at the fierce eyes on the wanted poster before leaving at Chocolate's urging.
The heavy fog that had persisted for days was finally showing signs of lifting, but visibility at night was still far from ideal.
When Jenkins erged from the alley onto the main road, he saw a group of workers standing by the street next to a pile of lampposts. The gas pipes had been dug up from the ground. Now that he thought about it, he recalled the Nolan Daily reporting that this district would have its gas service suspended.
"Are they finally installing streetlights?"
He paused, imagining the streets bathed in light at night, and couldn't help but smile.
He quickened his pace toward ho. Today was the last day of the Month of the Traveler and Frost, and he needed to prepare for the whispers that would co at midnight.
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