Chapter 7 Cas
CAS
Ididn’t bother to ask why the cute little doll, hair freshly dyed her signature pink, was accompanying us to the bank.
The tower’s roots started in the underside, between the gate of Hades and Izanami—respectively Wealth and Death.
My memory told me it had been three or four levels high back in the day, but now the bone-white building rose up like a wax candle, pierced with spelled dark windows, so tall it reached the roof of the cave where the underside town circle was carved.
“Does it go up all the way to the Vale?” I asked out loud.
“Yes—it’s five floors high above ground,” Lucian answered as we walked in. “But the older safes are all down here.”
By that he meant mine would be here, and I didn’t doubt it.
Inside, the hall seemed rather small, and rectangular, despite the building being circular. I concluded that the space between the walls must be where the safes were stored.
We’d only taken a couple of steps into the Gold Bank when a pale, slender blue-skinned woman dressed in a sharp black suit sashayed to us, reverently bowing. “Sir Regis. A pleasure as always.” Her voice felt like warm ambrosia on a summer’s night, sweet and full of promises.
“Likewise.” Being a wise man, he quickly wrapped his arm around the redhead’s shoulders. “Helena, my wife, Kleos,” he introduced.
The being didn’t lose her smile, but had the sense to redirect her gaze to the rest of us—taking us in one by one, and lingering on Silver. “And the loveliest of company. An honor. How may I be of assistance?”
Lucian gestured towards me. “Our good friend here needs to locate his account.”
“Certainly. If you’ll follow me.”
She glided left, her body floating a few inches higher than the polished white stone flooring.
“This branch should absolutely give some tips on customer service to the upper floors,” Silver whispered to Kleos, who chuckled.
“Pretty sure we get the hot wraith because Lucian’s with us,” she retorted, keeping her voice just as low.
Said hot wraith turned. “I serve at the leisure of all our valued customers, fair ladies. And you’ll find that my body temperature runs quite cold.”
Kleos chuckled. “I meant hot as in attractive.”
“Oh. In which case, I’m flattered.” She tilted her head, eerie pale eyes turning to Lucian. “If it pleases both of you, outside of working hours, I’d be delighted to—”
Lucian didn’t even let her finish, his voice low. “I don’t share, Helena.”
She blinked. “Since when?”
“Since Kleos,” he replied easily.
“I see.” Entering a half-circular office, she gestured to the empty space in front of an imposing mahogany desk, where four leather wingbacks shimmered into being. “The head of the guild will be with you shortly.”
“That is a Regis perk,” Lucian clarified, leading his lady to one of the chairs.
A completely ordinary man with salt and pepper hair, wearing a fedora hat, the head of the banking guild was a bit of a letdown after Helena. What he lacked in preternatural beauty, he made up for by carrying a heaped platter of sugary goodness.
“Sorry for the wait,” he said, although he arrived rather promptly. “I was just in New Orleans. Sir Dayn, at your service. Please, help yourselves!”
None of us hesitated. Silver took advantage of the fact that she had two hands, and seeing the wisdom in the action, I imitated her, securing a second beignet.
“You came all the way from New Orleans in a few minutes?” Kleos asked, between polite nibbles.
“All our banks are outfitted with permanent portals, for our convenience. As esteemed clients, you’d be welcome to use any if the need arose.
” He sat behind his imposing desk. “It’s as easy as stepping through a door.
You’re lucky I’d just asked my secretary for these.
So, how can the Eternal Gold Bank be of assistance? ”
I swallowed a mouthful and replied. “I know I have an account with you. I’m not certain which.”
“I see.” Unperturbed, he opened a few drawers, glancing inside. “That happens more often than you’d think.”
“It does?” Silver cocked an eyebrow.
“Of course. We primarily cater to immortals, and across the eons, many people forget things such as bank accounts, phone numbers, or identification details for a kingdom that rose and fell eons ago. Here it is!” He victoriously produced a long, thin wooden wand, adorned with an intricate serpentine design and several stones. “May I?”
I shrugged, and the banker pointed the tip towards me, before letting go of the device.
The stones glowed, and of its own volition, the wand bent to a blank piece of paper. I leaned in to watch it etch a series of Roman numerals, followed by numbers. IXˉDCCXIII 4793883
Lucian whistled.
“What?” Silver asked before I could.
He shrugged. “It’s just, my grandfather’s safety boxes are in Roman numerals. I don’t think anyone else in town has accounts this old.”
“A few individuals do,” the banker asserted. “You’ll excuse me if I can’t name names—client privacy and all. As Mr. Regis inferred, your account is rather ancient, but the location enchantment took the liberty of converting the contents to its current estimated value in Highvale gold.”
He pointed to the number.
Silver gasped. “Is there supposed to be a comma somewhere?”
The banker didn’t snort, but he very much looked like he wanted to. “It’s an estimate. We don’t bother with decimals.”
“It’s a large amount?” I gleaned from Silver’s reaction.
“Almost five million golds—yes, I’d say you’re not destitute,” Kleos quipped. “Let’s put it that way: I earned about six thousand gold per year at my old job. I mean, it’s peanuts to the likes of Lucian, but you’re comfortable.”
“I’ll even let you pay for drinks next time,” Lucian said. “Could you handle a modernized subaccount for him? Something that can handle bills, withdrawals, cards and the like.”
“Easily,” the banker starts. “The account is ready to be used immediately and we can—”
“Wait, wait,” Silver interrupted, standing to have a better look at the wand currently resting quietly next to the paper. “Can this thing tell us the name on the account? Who is he?”
The banker looked from Silver to me. I guessed he was thinking of something along the lines of client privacy again.
I nodded slowly.
“Well, accounts this old don’t actually have names attached to them, so to speak. Sometimes, the contents can enlighten us. If you’d like to visit the safe, we can—” He grew quiet, watching his bejeweled artifact hover of its own volition, pointing straight at Silver.
She stiffened, returning to her seat, but it was too late.
The wand vibrated impatiently until the banker pushed the first paper away, laying down a fresh sheet.
It started to write. IVˉDCXII.
“Ha!” I laughed, as the wand continued with a number sadly longer than mine. “You’re one to talk.”
“What?” Silver snapped.
“Mine was 9713. Yours is 4612. It’s much older. Right?” I asked around, as Silver stiffened.
The banker was the first to answer. “Yes. Not much, however. Back in those days, creation was rather prolific, and banking, a rather new concept. For a few centuries, no one bothered with it, and all of a sudden, everyone wanted an account. I’d say the first thousand are spread over hundreds of years.
By 3000 or so, everyone and their sister wanted an account.
We’ll have to check dates, but I’d say safes 9713 and 4612 were opened a year or two apart. ”
Kleos reached out to Silver’s hand. “When would you say they were both opened?”
“Sometime in the Bronze Age. Why, miss, it seems you were more apt at squirrelling gold away than your friend.”
The number next to her safe’s identification was longer than mine.
“Oh, gods.” Silver plopped to the ground, head between her knees.
Kleos rubbed her back. “Breathe. Breathe, darling.”
“I take it this was unexpected?” the banker asked mildly, helping himself to another beignet.
“Well.” Kleos grimaced, exchanging a glance with Lucian. “We didn’t know she’d have an account, no.”
But they’d known that she was more than what she appeared.
I wasn’t surprised.
“Was it seven million or—” The pretty little doll sounded faint.
“Seventy-one, smols,” Lucian corrected. “If it makes you feel better, I still have more.”
“It seems that there are other accounts at your name,” the banker stated.
“Well, yes,” Silver managed, still shaken. “I have an account—where my Guard salary gets paid.”
“It’s rather surprising your primary account was not attributed to you when you opened it. Which branch did you use, may I ask?”
“I—” She bit her lower lip. “Right here—well, up in the Vale. They didn’t do any spell on me. They just took my ID and opened a new one.”
The banker narrowed his eyes. “Hm. It seems I need to have a talk with our upper counterparts. Miss, I see you’re rather disturbed at the moment. Would you like a second before we talk about the third account?”
“Third!” she screamed, jumping to her feet.
My eyes returned to the wand, resting quietly again.
The page had three lines now.
IVˉDCXII. 71243203
Edith Silver. 88AFR6. 573
Edith Silver. 16TCN3. NA
“Not applicable?” Kleos asked.
“Yes, it’s rather common when the contents of the vault aren’t of determinable monetary value.” The banker shrugged. “It could be worthless or priceless.”
“I haven’t opened a second account,” she assured us all. “What’s in it?”
To think she’d tagged along to work out my secrets.
“One moment, if you please.” The man slid a slender device before him, opening it up before letting its fingers dance across its surface.
A computer, my mind supplied, though I wasn’t certain what it was supposed to compute. I concluded this was theoretical knowledge that I possessed on the object, without any practical experience with it.
“Ah. This was opened last week. It contains deposited holdings. I’ll happily take you to visit it at your leisure.”
“Yes, please,” Silver stated, resolute. “Right after we visit his.”
She pointed straight at me, narrowed eyes dark.
I considered my options before shrugging. She would persist in mistrusting me unless I let her tag along, of that I was certain. And something told me the safe would be of no help whatsoever, past what it already revealed.
It was thousands of years old, just like hers.
“Whatever pleases you, doll.”
She glared like what would best please her at the moment was my head on a spike. Wasn’t she precious?