Chapter Text
In July, the sun rises early. It means Tango manages a few blissful hours of dozing in its heat before he hears heavy feet on the lighthouse stairs, and he is pulled from the dregs of sleep.
Today Etho begins to function first, meaning he has the dubious honour of making breakfast; Tango takes his time waking up, getting dressed...
Once he is ready the first thing he does is walk all the way from the bunk room in the basement up to the top of the lighthouse, checking the rituals as he goes. At the very top he checks on the fire itself and, satisfied, makes his way back down to the kitchen level. Pearl and Etho are already there, one half asleep and the other cooking.
"Anything to report?" Tango asks, as Pearl lounges on the table and Etho flips an egg like a pancake.
"Not much; quiet night." Pearl yawns into her hand, emphasising her point. "You?"
"Nah, wards and fire are good, charms check is tomorrow," Tango nods as he says it, strolling over to take his own seat. With nothing interesting to do with work, he turns to today's chef instead. "Hey, Etho, when's breakfast - Pearlypop's falling asleep here!"
Pearl laughs, shifting only enough to watch both men. "I'm fine, Tango, let it rest."
"Well if it's just Pearl getting tired..." Etho flips a single egg onto the top of a porridge bowl, and passes it to Pearl.
"Etho! No fair! How come I don’t get any?!"
"You were the one saying she needed sleep."
Tango cannot exactly argue with that analysis, but it does not mean that he has to like it. With a hrumph he folds himself into his chair, pouting at Etho even as Pearl sticks out her tongue at him.
With Pearl eating and Tango trying to sulk, the kitchen is quiet for a short while. Quiet of words, at least; Etho always hums while he cooks, and the wood in the stove crackles slightly ominously.
"You know," Pearl pauses between one bite and the next, before setting her spoon down. "There was something - Etho, you're the better cloudspeaker. Were we expecting any specific weather?"
Tango sees Etho's eyebrows raise, and can feel his own do the same. On a list of leading questions...
"I wasn't paying too much attention, but nothing jumped out," Etho muses. "And, this place is warded against storms. Can't think of anything else this late in July."
"Fog," Pearl tells them, her own brow furrowed. "Really, really thick fog. It rolled up from the old harbour a little after sunset, dispersed just before dawn. Might be worth bulking up the fire and checking the foghorn before tonight; it was fine last night, but any thicker or more spread and the ships won’t see it."
Tango gestures his agreement to bulking out the fire; it's his job to keep it up and running, to make sure the ships passing day by day and night by night know where they are. For an expert fire mage such as himself, it's barely even a problem.
"Fog? This time of year?" Etho squints.
"Yup," Pearl pops her p, shovelling more egg and porridge into her mouth.
Fog, fog, fog... He definitely remembers fog - horrible to fight in and occasionally explosive - bur details about it? Details are always harder.
"Doesn't it leave during the day, usually?" He asks, when he finally settles down. "When the sun burnificates it or something? Or its curse fog, and it doesn't leave at all. Not leaving during the night."
Tango glances between the pair, looking for their confirmation.
Both shrug, looking at each other and then Tango rather helplessly.
"I only know sea fog," Etho says. "Costal boy, me, born and bred. It doesn't sound normal, and I didn’t notice any fog when I foretold the weather, but I wouldn't know."
"It's July." Pearl repeats the biggest problem with the fog. "We shouldn’t get fog in July. Not here, anyway. We don’t need magic to know that."
"Maybe it's just not common? Some places the weather is weird." Tango suggests, even knowing in his gut that that is not true. "I've gotta go shopping anyway; I'll ask about town? See if it's normal for here?"
"What?!" Etho's eyes open wide. "No, what? Tango, you can't go to town and leave me here! Alone with the fire! What if it cooks me?!"
"Eh, you'll survive," Tango dismisses the dramatics with a wave of his hand. "Unless you want to drag the groceries up the hill yourself?"
None of them will burn; he might not be an adventurer any more, but Tango's still a fully qualified Magus of the Bleeding Ash. If anyone can keep a fire under control while shopping two miles away, Tango is that guy.
"And, hey!" Pearl butts in. "What am I? Dried shrimp?"
"I mean, I thought you were gonna be asleep," Etho backs down. "So you know. No company. Not entirely alone."
"Hmmm," Pearl's disbelief is just as teasing as Tango's offence, though it soon breaks into a yawn. "Alright, fine, I'll see you boys in the evening, then?"
"Night Pearly!" Tango calls, as Etho gives her a sharp wave.
The pair of them give her a few minutes to get to the basement where they sleep, before staring the other down across the table.
"Well!" It is Etho who breaks first this morning; usually it is Tango, but he takes his every win. "I'll clean up, you get into town."
"Yeah, yeah, anything you need?" Tango, free of washing up duty, bounces back onto his feet.
He will have to clean up after dinner, but dinner is not just yet, and Tango is more than happy to delay the suffering.
"Check in with the courier for me?" Etho asks. "Ordered some new redstone last month, and it isn't here yet. And, we need some milk."
"We always need milk! Eternal milk! Stupid milk!"
Tango might wave the pen around dramatically, but he does still note the item down.
On the back of his hand - what do you take him for, organised?
The walk into town is a long, meandering one. At this time of year it can be beautiful - so long as you miss the midday heat - though at others it can be treacherous. By the time Tango makes it to where the dirt track becomes cobbles the sun is truly up, and the businesses are just starting for the day.
"Tango!" The fishmonger calls, still sorting the night's catch. "Good morning!"
"Morning xB!" Tango waves back. "You ready for customers yet? It's my turn for the grocery run."
He lifts the empty bag, showing it off.
XB chuckles, but shakes his head, "not yet, I'm afraid; give me a half hour."
"Make it an hour? Gotta run past the Kingshall; Pearl wants the forecast checking."
"You? Visiting Joel? If you make it here by noon I'll throw in a pound of mackerel."
Probably just because xB cannot shift it otherwise; transporting fresh fish to the cities never leaves it tasting as good, and the lighthouse is one of the few places in town with an ice room. Tango grins regardless "you're the best, xB!"
"Oh, I know," the amusement never leaves his tongue, even as Tango runs off further into town.
There are a few other shops that Tango needs to visit - the greengrocer, the baker, the butcher - and so he drops by each in turn. The courier does not have Etho’s redstone, but he does have a stack of papers from Zedaph for Tango, which always promises a fun evening. Each shopkeeper is as friendly as the last, and his bag is almost full by the time he makes it to the hall.
It is a newer building, the King having decreed a need for all towns over a certain size to have a representative of his present. Their town barely makes the cut, and might not get to keep it - Joel, like always, has his feet on the desk, chair kicked back, and is staring at ceiling, clearly bored out of his skull.
"Hey Joel," Tango waves him down.
"Tango!" Joel drops his feet from the desk to the floor, slamming his hands on the surface as he swings violently forward. "Tango, please, you've got to have a commission for me; I'm so bored. Or are you looking for extra work? One of Beef's sheep ran off, and I'm gonna have to go find it later if you won't."
"Sorry, Joel, as exciting as chasing a sheep is, I'm retired," Tango is not sorry at all; for all the glamour people claim, adventuring is hard work, and tracking down missing farm animals is the worst.
Even outside of that...
He thinks of weeks trudging through rain, limping home on broken ankles; of nights freezing at camp, saved only by his team huddled at his side; of battles against impossible odds, and the blood it has spilt.
No, Tango is quite happy with his new job handling the lighthouse. Sure, it doesn't pay as well, but if he wanted paying he'd have followed Impulse into custom enchantment work.
"Oh, come on," Joel huffs a bit. "You used to be an adventurer, isn't this what you existed for?! I’m supposed to, what, message the capital? And what are they gonna do? Send someone to find a single missing sheep? No! So come on, help a friend out? Before I have to make it my problem. I thought you adventurous types liked the mud."
"Sorry, buddy, you're on your own," Tango at least tries to sound apologetic as Joel groans a little too loud to be sincere. "You accepted the posting."
"And regretting it every day," Joel huffs, before grabbing a quill and parchment. "What're you here for, then? Trouble at the lighthouse?"
"Nah, Pearl just wanted the weather forecast; Etho's pretty good, but she reckons he's off by a bit."
"Huh, first time for everything, I suppose."
Tango pretends not to notice Joel's pout at the mention of Etho at all. Instead he is very well behaved! He only rocks back and forth on his feet a little as Joel thumbs through his paperwork.
"Which forecast? Tonight's?"
"Yeah, and last night's, if you could. She reckons she saw some fog down by the old harbour, and thought it was a bit weird for the seas."
"Yeah, that is weird," Joel's voice is absent as he says those words.
Then, a second later, his fingers freeze and his head snaps up.
"Joel?" Tango asks, a little cautious; Joel might not have been here long enough to be considered local, but he has a year or two on the rest of the lighthouse staff. He could know something...?
"Fog? At the old harbour?" Joel scowls, a little deeper than usual.
"I know!" Tango gestures wildly, his own confusion bleeding through. "There wasn't anything this morning, but she's pretty sure."
"Hm," Joel's scowl deepens, even as he fishes out the forecast and hands it over. "I swear I've heard things about that place."
"Things?" Tango tilts his head, curious.
Joel shrugs. "I've only been here a few years. You're best talking to xB about it, or maybe Keralis? Or was it Joe? I don't remember much. The old lighthouse keeper also hated it, but he's kinda dead. Not like I go there anyway - hate that hill."
"Hey!" Tango freezes his position the next time his weight reaches his toes. "I live on that hill!"
"Yeah, yeah, whatever, you freak; just read the blumin' weather reports so I can go wrangle sheep and you can go do whatever you do up there."
"You mean the unethical science experiments?"
"Really?!"
"Nah, though if you're interested, a buddy of mine is always looking for test subjects."
"... You know? I don't wanna know."
"Probably for the best."
Joel grunts, tapping on the weather forecast. Tango takes the hint, and skims it over.
Clear, still skies, bright sun, maybe a costal breeze... There's not even supposed to be rain, let alone any fog. If the effect is truly localised, perhaps the Royal Observatory doesn't work on a granular enough level, but with Etho missing it too...
"Thanks, Joel," he frowns, handing it back.
"Sure," Joel tucks the paper back into the middle of a stack, surely soon to be lost all over again. "Find anything?"
"Nope," Tango frowns a bit. "Perfectly sunny forecast, but I'm stopping by the fish market next. I'll ask xB about it."
"And you're sure about the sheep?"
"I get free fish is I make it before noon; you can handle a sheep in the woods."
Joel groans, but doesn't actually disagree; Tango cannot actually help but laugh at him as he heads back onto the busy streets.
Tango makes it back to the fishmonger just before his appointed deadline of noon. He waves at xB, who raises an eyebrow, checks the clock tower, and then grins.
“Tango!” he calls. “Nice, you made it.!”
“Of course I did!” the docks are mostly empty now, with people heading either home or to the market to eat, allowing Tango up to sidle up to the stall. “And I believe I win some mackerel?”
“Promises are promises,” xB agrees, reaching under the table and pulling out a pre-measured pound. He then pulls out his knife, and gestures to the rest. “What else can I get for you?”
There are a couple of things on the list – Pearl and Etho always get through a lot of fish, even if Tango prefers a good steak – most of which xB has. He is out of haddock already, but Tango gets a good deal on some nice looking pollock instead.
“So...” Tango starts, as xB wraps the purchases. “I spoke to Joel about some stuff, and he suggested I talk to you. Or Keralis, but who knows where he is.”
xB laughs at that, “Keralis will be wherever he is; what can I help you with? If I can’t answer, he’ll be home tonight.”
Tango wonders a little about how xB can be so sure of that but, then, the men know each other better than he knows anyone in this place.
“The old harbour,” Tango begins, and then wonders if that is where he should start. “Last night, right, Pearl was on fire duty? She said she saw some fog by the old harbour. But, it was gone by morning, and neither Etho nor the official forecast know anything about it. Joel thought you might?”
It takes a long moment before xB speaks again, hands busy wrapping the fish. He ties them up with string, and then leans against the counter.
“It’s just old tales, really,” xB says. “Probably just young folk on unstable flooring, a bit drunk and hitting their heads, you know?”
“I know,” Tango says.
And he does.
He also knows how a good half of his work as an adventurer was born from stories starting like this.
“No harm in telling really,” xB sighs, hides it in a weaker chuckle. “It’s an old story around here, that when the fog rolls in, it means the merfolk are nearby. Not that anyone has seen one – drunk youths aside – in generations.”
When xB does not continue, Tango nods encouragingly; he’s been so many places that speak of merfolk, each different than the last.
“That’s about it, really,” xB shrugs. “Fog means merfolk, who’ll try and lure anyone nearby in and steal their soul. Victims get left a breathing but motionless husk, only to die when they cannot eat.”
“It’s happened?” Tango asks.
“Not in decades,” xB says, voice grim. “One boy, I must have been... four? Five? He and some friends – all apprentices with the fishers – went out drinking that-a-ways. One drowned, and the other... I’m pretty sure he just hit his head real bad on the rotting wood, but his friends said it was merfolk. He never woke up, died a few days later. Mom would tell us about the merfolk and to avoid them, but I think it’s more getting adventurous young men not to get themselves killed than the truth.”
“Eesh,” Tango grimaces, putting that away to the back of his mind. “Poor guy.”
xB nods in agreement. “Nobody was keen to go there, after that; the wood’s rotten and the fishing’s bad, and all the ships moved up coast. Still, I wouldn’t go checking it out, especially in fog; the buildings are unstable, and there’s nothing worth it there.”
He very much has the tone of somebody more than used to people trying anyway; Tango salutes him, just a little silly to try and bring the mood back up. “No skadoodling off to a death trap, got it! I’ll warn Pearl and Etho away too; sorry for bringing it up.”
“You’re fine,” xB smiles again, a more normal expression for the man. “Go on then, get those fish back to the ice room before they bake in this heat – unless you’ve more questions?”
Tango thinks, and... “Do you know why the harbour was abandoned?”
“Big city up coast, better connections to the capital, better boats could make the trip. Eventually it just didn’t turn a profit any more, or so TFC said. It closed a few years before I was born.”
Which... Well, TFC, the old lighthouse keeper, isn’t exactly available for asking, but it sounds like the tales of economic woe Tango has heard the country over.
“Right. Thanks for your help, xB!” Tango says, stepping out of the shade of the fishmonger’s.
“Anytime!” xB calls back. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Probably not; this’ll last us a few days. Etho’s waiting for a parcel, though, so you might see him.”
xB chuckles, “got it. Say hi to the others for me.”
“I will!”
And with a few other niceties, Tango heads on back up the hill.
The walk back up to the lighthouse is a slog. Gone is the chill sunlight of morning, and out are the harsh rays of noon. To keep the food cold Tango keeps a constant flame wrapped around his hands, only worsening the situation – with will of fire and heart of ash, he drains the heat from his bag and into those flames.
And bakes his own skin doing so.
It is a hard route, but not an impossible one; dust from the mud path coats his gloves and boots, but in time he makes it back up to the lighthouse.
Where Etho greets him, glass of water in hand.
Saying nothing Tango swaps his bag of supplies for the drink, and heads to the cooler shade of indoors. He drops the spell between his hands, and trudges up all the stairs to check on the lighthouse fire.
Content that that spell is holding fine, Tango tosses more wood on the fire, and goes to find a shower.
One shower and the rest of the afternoon later, and the trio find themselves around the dinner table again. Pearl, only recently awake, takes her turn yawning into her food.
“We didn’t see any fog today,” Etho says, being the one to bring it up.
“Huh,” Pearl shakes a bit more sleep from her head. “Maybe it was just a fluke. Tango, did you ask about the forecasts?”
“Right!” He slaps his forehead, having forgotten. “I was waiting for you to get up, then I forgot. Forecast had nothing, but Joel said to check with xB, so I checkificated with xB, and xB said there’s local stories about soul-stealing mermaids that live in the fog and leave people soulless? He reckons it’s what some drunk apprentices came up with to excuse some tragic accidents, but he mentioned it.”
As soon as he is done, Tango reaches for the salt. He does not think anything about the lack of reply until he has returned it to its place, and they are still silent.
“Guys? Did I say something wrong?” he glances between them, and finds them staring at each other. “Is this an elf thing I don’t get?”
He does not expect it to be an elf thing, but a surprising number of things are. This is the first time Tango has really worked with elves, insular as they tend to be, but Etho and Pearl are usually good about corrections.
“No, you didn’t say anything bad,” Pearl’s smile is a little thin. “We just... Both ran into some merfolk, when we were travelling along the coast to get here.”
Etho hesitates, but does nod along. “No fog, though.”
Tango recognises a traumatic memory when he sees one; there is always a reason why someone retires to work like this, and not all of them are as obvious as his prosthetic and scars.
Dismissing the idea of pushing them, he shrugs and just continues the conversation along. “Maybe there’s some truth in mermaids visiticating, but the fog’s just incidental?”
“We should probably just avoid the area and wait for it to pass,” Pearl sighs, prodding at a potato with her knife. “So long as it stays down there, it’s not hurting anyone.”
It is those sorts of words that usually ring in disaster, at least in Tango’s opinion. No conversation at an alehouse or inn including the line ‘it’s not hurting anyone’ has ever resulted in less than one of the most difficult monster hunts of his short-if-storied adventuring career.
Then again, this is his house, not a drinking establishment, and he is not an adventurer anymore; Tango knocks back his wine, pushes his plate aside, and pulls a deck of cards from his sleeve.
“Now, before we formally change over, anyone up for a game of cards?”
A few different card games and dessert later, Pearl takes over responsibility for the lighthouse so the others might sleep. It’s still early, though; Tango and Etho both prepare for bed, then find themselves both pouring over the research notes and schematics from Zed’s package.
“I don’t see why it wouldn’t work,” Tango says, tracing the lines of power across the sketched out device. “Maybe if you swapped the thingey with the... the... with this one, and layerificate it with a frostposter? It’d fixify up the cooling problems he mentioned.”
“It should work,” Etho agrees. “But I don’t see why he wants it to. This is... more expensive to make, less efficient, and harder to train people to use.”
“I believe I quote him when I say, and I do quote, ‘SCIENCE!!!’,” Tango mimes the quotes as he says it, putting on the worst false accent he knows.
He loves his old adventuring buddies, but that doesn’t mean he won’t tease them even in absentenia.
“If its science he wants, has he considered just feeding it lava? If he were to over-clock such a machine...”
“He works in the castle; he can’t risk the boom booms, but maybe we could happy fun sauce it up for him? There’s that whole field out back nobody uses.”
“Winter time; the grass will burn in the summer.”
“Etho.” Tango breaks the flow of conversation to grab his shoulders, and force him to look into his eyes instead of at the admittedly fascinating abomination that his friend has dreamed up. “I’m a fire mage. Not just a fire mage, but a fire mage of the Bleeding Ash. The grass only burns if I say it can.”
“... Alright,” Etho confesses. “You’ve twisted my arm; can we afford the parts?”
“I’ll write back tomorrow, see if he can send us the parts. If he sent it, he wants it testing. Now, if we just-” Tango cuts himself off with a yelp, twisting and punching at the sudden pressure on his arm.
Pearl – one hand still on his arm – laughs as she ducks under the blow, and Etho does too. Tango sticks his tongue out at both of them.
“You’re lucky I punched not fireballed,” he tells her.
“You always punch when surprised,” she grins. “And if not, I can duck.”
Tango, not sure how to respond, sticks his tongue out again.
“Did you need something, Pearl?” Etho is the one to ask, elbowing Tango slightly to the side.
“Yeah,” she sighs, and places a few shattered pieces of crystal atop the schematic. “Sorry; someone left a bucket up by the fire. Tripped and put my hand in it, didn’t I? I’m fine, but this one broke.”
“You’re not hurt?” Etho immediately asks, grabbing and checking her hands.
“All good, see? The charm protected me.” She lets Etho check her over, but it is Tango who she watches with curious eyes.
With a finger, he prods at the shards, feeling for any magic left. There are a few stray traces, but nothing substantial; it worked exactly as it was supposed to, breaking to save Pearl from injury, but it must have been a bad one to leave the charm in this many pieces.
Tango whistles, and holds up a particularly small shard to the light, “yup, definitely broke. My belt’s on the bed, feel free to take one of mine for tonight; I’ll stay in and replace this tomorrow.”
“Thanks!” she gives Tango a quick, if uncharacteristically tight, hug. “I just feel kinda stupid, you know?”
“Don’t,” he squeezes her before pulling out of the hug. “We wear them for a reason. And, hey, at least it wasn’t your heart of the sea; we’d have to order a new one of them.”
Beside him, Etho twitches – probably at the expense. Pearl, however, laughs it off.
“Better bankrupt than dead!” she says, with a lopsided smile. “Drowning’s a nasty way to go.”
As a fire mage? Drowning is the sort of death that Tango has nightmares of.
He shudders, and pushes the shards aside. Pearl also gives Etho a quick hug - maybe the thing with the fire rattled her a little? It would be fair to.
“I should get back to work; you two get some rest, yeah?” she glances to each in turn, awaiting a response.
Both Tango and Etho do agree to – and they will. Eventually. Once they’ve finished pouring over all the implications of these papers.
“We’ll see you in the morning,” Tango promises her. “I even got some bacon for us!”
“Oooh, bacon, guess I can’t be running away tonight then!” She teases back. “I’ll make sure to be there!”
With one of Tango’s charms in hand, she heads back up to the working levels.
Tango turns and looks at the well and truly broken charm; it saved her from a nasty injury, he’s sure. And if he has enough amethyst to make another? That is absolutely a tomorrow him problem.
For tonight he instead brushes the debris to the side, and turns back to Etho with a grin.
“I’ll sort that for her tomorrow. Now, where were we?”
At some point in the middle of the night, Tango awakens to the sound of the fog horn being turned on. He is awake just long enough to plug his ears, pull the pillow over his head, and go back to sleep.
Come morning, he will be alive to regret that decision.