Sporemageddon

A few days ago.

He had spent plenty of time in drunk tanks before. Not because of his own inability to control himself around alcohol (except for one time, when he was much younger) but rather to find suspects and culprits.

Men lowered their inhibitions around a strong drink. They weren’t alone in that. Hobgoblins, some felinoids, a few other species. Mostly anything mammalian could be hit by the drink, and then they ended up in a place like this.

The drunk tank the two officers brought their sleepy pall to was only a couple of blocks over. A dingy room below a station that shared space with an actual lock-up, though the drunk tank was not as secure. It was a large room, bisected down the middle with two large cages to either side.

The only light came from a pair of naked bulbs hanging from the ceiling and a few narrow, bar-covered windows way up on the wall. Those were left open, no matter the time of year. The stink in this kind of place made a bit of ventilation necessary.

“I’ve never been in a tank this quiet,” Mallory said.

“Yeah,” one of the officers said. “It’s a little eerie, isn’t it?”

It was. The tank wasn’t at full capacity. Far from it, even. It was only mid-day. Most rowdy drinkers or drug-users were out at night, causing a fuss and keeping people awake, or at worst starting fights. There were maybe thirty people here. Most of them on one side. The opposite, the less-full tank, was for the ladies, and it was nearly empty.

Everyone here, with a few exceptions, was asleep.

“How many people like this do you see, warden?” he asked.

The man, a slightly more rotund officer than most who walked with a faint hitch in his step, shrugged, then he used the side of his baton to scratch at his head. “‘Bout thirty to fifty a day? Give or take.”

“Hm, so not that many?” he asked.

“Well, see, they’re not bothersome,” the warden said. “Just sleeping wherever. Once they’re up, we slap them with a fine and send them off on their way. Much better than drunks, let me tell you.”

“I see.” He walked into the cell and knelt next to the man they’d just brought in. They had just let him slump onto the floor on his side. Mallory touched his face, neck, hands. The man’s pulse was low and slow, his temperature cool, maybe even cooler than normal, but no sweat. Opening one eye revealed that they were bloodshot and... moving? There was definitely a lot of small, twitchy motion there. “Did anyone ever tell you what it’s like? Taking the drug?”

The warden chuckled. “I didn’t get this job because I liked that kind of thing myself. But I’ve spoken to a few. Say they’re dreaming. Almost like it’s real. Vivid is what they say. When they wake up, they’re upset at being awake, but also... energized? Like they just slept real good even if it looks like they didn’t sleep a wink.”

“I see,” Mallory replied. He stood up, then gestured to the officers. “I’ll be taking that sample you found on this man, if you don’t mind. I’m going to need it signed out officially.”

The men grumbled a little, and were obviously willing to just let him take it to avoid the paperwork, but he subtly insisted that it was for the best. A few minutes later he was walking out of the tank and heading deeper into the city, walking with a long, loping stride that ate up the cracked pavement.

He had a hunch.

With the number of overlapping skills he had, a hunch wasn’t just nothing. So, he continued to walk across the city, only stopping when he was before a stately brick building in the guide quarter. The building had a small, well-tended to yard out front behind a tall wrought-iron fence. A plaque next to the main entrance announced the building’s purpose.

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City Nineteen

Pharmacist and Alchemist Guild

He reached out and tapped a small stone in an iron box by the front gate and felt a thrill of magic zap though his fingers even as a small bell rang within. It wasn’t long before someone was out and walking over to see what the fuss was about.

The young man went wide-eyed when Mallory showed him his badge, and it wasn’t long that he was within the building and in a large lobby room being greeted by one of the heads of the venerable guild, a man wearing long, slightly stained robes who walking into the room followed by a faint sulphury and oily odour.

“Sir,” Mallory said. “I’m a detective from the capital. I have a substance that I need assistance in identifying.”

“I see? Does the police not have its own alchemists for such things?” the man asked.

“Yes. But they’re slow. I need this done quickly. Immediately, if possible.”

The older gentleman’s bushy eyebrows rose at that. “Well, my curiosity is piqued. What is this, then?”

He handed the sample over, and the man looked it over. It was just a cursory look, holding it up to see it through the light of a lantern on one wall. He hummed, then opened the vial and waved his hand over it to bring the odour closer to his nostrils.

“Sir?” Mallory asked.

“This is a drug, is it not?”

“Yes,” Mallory said. “Are you familiar with it?”

“No. I’ve never seen the like. But I can identify it as well as anyone else can.”

Mallory nodded and did just that, but the results were no different than before.

[Dreamveil Powder] – Uncommon

A medicine that causes sleep.

Not currently illegal in City Nineteen.

“I suspect that your skills with this are superior to my own,” Mallory said.

“Hmpf. Come with me. We’ll see what this is in a few,” the man said, and Mallory followed him up some stone stairs then down a corridor and into a large laboratory where a few others were quickly working over alembics and burners.

The guild head passed the sample onto a senior alchemist, and they both watched as it was carefully split apart into equal portions, then passed on again to a few journeymen.

Each sample was run through a few tests, all except for one.

The guild head took that last one, now on a small piece of paper, he folded the sheet, then tossed it into his mouth.

Mallory jumped. “Sir!”

“At that dose, nothing will happen to me,” the man said. “Trust me, I’ve been doing this a long time.” The guild head licked his lips, then hummed.

It took a few moments for the results to come in, and then the guild head looked them over.

“I see. This is a potent drug. It’s based on a mycoloid body we’ve used before.”

“A mushroom?” Mallory asked.

“A modified one,” the man said. “Cut with flour and an anti-clumping agent. Someone is cheaping out. Ah, but the main reagent is based on the Veil of Sighs, a common-enough mushroom. Its spores cause you to feel drowsy, sleepy. We use it for some draughts.”

“Is it dangerous?” he asked.

“A Veil of Sighs? Addictive, though only mildly so. Most pharmacists know better than to use too much, and we often mix it with other reagents in a draught. This however? Oh, this is something else entirely. Very addictive. Chemically so, but I suspect that it’ll turn into a habit for anyone that takes it often enough. Where did you find this, if I may ask.”

“Is that a pressing question?” Mallory asked. He only answered dismissively because his mind was working already.

There was a snort. “Someone might well lose their license over this.”

“I found it on the streets. It’s a common enough drug now,” Mallory said.

“Well, that’s going to be a problem.”

“Do you know who could have made this?” he asked next.

“No. None of the alchemists I know work with mycological reagents this much. There may be specialists in other cities nearby, however. I can enquire, if you wish?”

“That might be wise. Is there a... cure for this?”

“Don’t take it.”

“Yes, I was afraid you’d say something like that.”

“Well, if that’s all detective, I find myself wanting to take a small mid-day nap, as it were. I’ll let my senior here escort you out.”

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