Light Trespassing

    “So, Norvan...when are you planning on joining a guild?” Norvan’s mother had that special sort of tone in her voice she used when she was asking a question that was more of a pointed statement.

    Norvan stared into his ceramic cup of water. “...dunno,” he mumbled. 

    “Graysen joined the Merchant’s Guild at fifteen, you know,” Norvan’s mother continued. “You’re seventeen. Don’t you have at least some idea of what you want to do for a living?”

    “Uh...” Norvan had some semblance of an idea, but considering how much his family teased him for his fascination with the paranormal, he didn’t feel like mentioning his dreams of hosting a ghost-hunting radio show. Not to mention the fact that he wasn’t sure if it was even an achievable dream, or a stable career path.

    “You’re very into history, old archaeological sites, and science, aren’t you? You could join the Archaeologist’s Guild, like your father,” Norvan’s mother suggested.

    “Sitting around in a hot, dusty digsite with a brush doesn’t really seem like my idea of an interesting job,” Norvan countered unhappily. Most archaeologists did not hunt ghosts.

    “Well, that’s not the only option. There’s plenty of jobs other than working in a digsite, you know.”
    “Uh-huh.” Norvan wondered vaguely which guild dealt with radio entertainment.
    “Just something to think about.” Norvan’s mother glanced at the old clock hanging next to the door. “Well, I’ve got to go pick up a few things. See you in a few hours!”

    Then she left, leaving Norvan morosely sipping his water and internally bemoaning the difficulty of making important choices.

    “I hear the new digsite’s haunted.”

    Norvan choked on his water. “What?”

    Graysen, Norvan’s older brother, nodded seriously, dropping the laundry basket he’d been carrying on the floor. “Yep. Dad says he and his coworkers uncovered a new room of some kind, and one guy’s apparently been experiencing some kind of disturbances. Stones moving on their own, weird vibes, whispers, that kind of thing. Of course, Dad doesn’t believe a word of it, says the guy probably just needs to get his aura checked. Which is probably true. But I’m sure you’d think it’s haunted, ghost boy. You’d believe anything.”

    “Heyyy.” Norvan chucked his mostly empty cup of water at Graysen, who yelped and flailed backward.

    “Cool it! I was just teasing.” Graysen kicked the cup aside. “Anyway, I thought you’d find it interesting. You can go wave your little ghost detector at the artifacts or something. Can you handle my laundry for me? I gotta go do guild stuff.”
    “Do your own laundry,” Norvan protested. Guild stuff. Ugh. Not another reminder.

    “What was that?” Graysen called, already nearly at the door.

    “Do your own laundry!” Norvan repeated, louder this time. He hopped off the table and headed to his room to start putting some things together. Tonight, Norvan was going to commit some light trespassing.

    An hour after dinner, as the sun dipped below the horizon above ground, Norvan slipped out the back door and into the tunnels. He ducked behind a rock to take inventory, just in case he’d forgotten something. His backpack contained the following: one water bottle (full), one snack pouch (nuts), one portable radio, one bandage, one field notebook, two pencils, and, most importantly, the spirit finder.

    The spirit finder was Norvan’s pride and joy. It had been cobbled together largely with parts from a broken radio, made from a design Norvan had come across in a book, and was held together largely with tape and prayers. A crooked antenna protruded from the left half of the top, and two small bulbs had been roughly affixed to the remaining area. The switch that powered the thing on was really just two wires that Norvan twisted together when he wanted to use the spirit finder. Underneath the tape, in a small box, was a mess of circuits that were supposed to make the device actually work. The principle was that the spirit finder would detect electromagnetic and auric energy in the air, and when it did, it would light up one or both of the two bulbs to a variable purpose. Of course, because Norvan was usually holding the device, it was always lit up to a degree, especially when other curios were nearby, but he felt like he mentally adjusted for that. Approximately, anyway. It was by no means a precise instrument.

    Norvan tucked the spirit finder back in the backpack and hoisted the pack over his shoulder. He checked the yard for any of his family members, then, when he was sure the coast was clear, Norvan stepped out from behind the rock and raced down the street and up the stairs to the surface, heading for the digsite where his father worked.

    The path to the digsite was longer than Norvan remembered, stretching away from the town and into the plains. Norvan slowed his pace to a walk and took some time to enjoy the atmosphere. Dusk was his favorite time of day. He loved the lavender hue of the sky and the gentle chill that swept through the air. More than the darkness of night, this felt like a time that spirits would walk the plains.

    After half an hour of walking, Norvan reached the entrance to the digsite. Instead of walking right in, he circled around the edge of the pits, looking for signs of recent activity. He wished he’d interrogated Graysen a little more about the specific site. How was he supposed to know which part was haunted?

    Ah. Yes. Norvan smiled as he reached into his pack and drew out the spirit finder. He twisted two wires together and the lights flicked on, glowing a dim yellow. Norvan held the spirit finder out over the edge of the nearest dig pit and waved it around, checking the reading. When the lights only dimmed slightly, Norvan moved on, heading to a pit farther out. Tools lay next to the pit, and in the growing darkness, Norvan caught sight of a shadow: an underground room? Excited, Norvan slid into the pit, crouching down to examine the hole in the ground. Was it just him, or were the lights on the spirit finder glowing more brightly? 

    Norvan climbed into the hole. He settled on the ground and held up the spirit finder, letting the bulbs illuminate his surroundings. A couple of ceramic pots sat in the corner of the small dusty room. A cold chill swept down Norvan’s spine as one of the pots rocked twice. The bulbs on the spirit finder suddenly gleamed bright.

    “Hello?” Norvan’s voice caught in his throat and the word came out a whisper.

    “Hey! You there!” A harsh voice from behind sent Norvan into a spasm of fright. “The digsite’s closed. You can’t stay here.”

    Norvan shuffled around to face the exit and stared fearfully. A large, dark curio carrying a lantern stood in the pit, looking down at Norvan. “Come on out. It’s time to go.”

    Norvan squeaked and obediently crawled out of the room. He stood up slowly, brushing dirt off his shirt. His head was about chest level compared to the other curio, who looked down with a stern expression.

    “I haven’t seen you before. You’re not one of the new recruits, are you?”

    “I’m not - I’m not actually with - uh - with the guild,” Norvan stammered, immediately wishing he’d lied.

    The curio scowled. “Then you’re trespassing on Archaeologist’s Guild property. Non-members aren’t allowed in the digsite without supervision. Come with me.”

    The curio climbed out of the pit. Norvan followed, arms shaking. “M - my dad’s an archaeologist, he uh - he works here.”

    “What’s his name?” The curio didn’t turn around, instead walking towards the road.

    “Brose. Halem Brose.” Saints, Norvan’s father was going to be so disappointed in him. Halem Brose was a stickler for rules. Norvan could already imagine the lecture.

    “Ah yes, I know him. I’ll radio him to come meet us halfway and pick you up. In the meantime, start walking.” The curio pulled out a short range radio and headed down the road back to Rumsum.

    Norvan nodded and continued to follow the curio. He wrapped his arms himself in an attempt to keep out the chill, and did his best not to listen to the radio conversation.

    Twenty minutes later, Norvan spotted his father walking up the road towards them. The other curio came to a stop and pushed Norvan forward. 

    “This your son?”

    Norvan’s father nodded. “Norvan, come here.” 

    Avoiding his father’s gaze, Norvan walked over to stand beside him.

    “I found him sneaking around the digsite. Don’t know what he was getting up to,” the other curio said gruffly. “You should watch your kids more closely.”

    “Thank you for calling me. I’ll handle him from here.”

    The other curio nodded curtly. “You best be going, then. See you tomorrow.” They turned and walked back up the road, leaving Norvan alone with his father.

    He started walking briskly back to town. Norvan hurried to catch up. “I’m sorry, I just wanted to take a look at something - ”

    “Son,” Norvan’s father interrupted. “I’m not angry. But you should have just asked, instead of sneaking out of the house after dark.”

    “I know,” Norvan mumbled, staring at his paws. 

    “I’d have been glad to show you whatever it was you wanted to see,” Norvan’s father continued. “But you just can’t go wandering around important archaeological sites by yourself. You don’t know the proper procedures; you could break something important without realizing it. Or you could get hurt - unlikely, I know, but if you tripped and fell, there isn’t usually anyone around to help at night. There’s a reason the place is restricted to guild members.”

    Norvan pondered this for a moment. “Are all archaeological sites restricted? Not just digsites?”

    “Most of them, yes. If you were a guild member, though, you likely wouldn’t have any trouble.”

    “I see.” They lapsed into silence, and Norvan mulled the idea over while they walked back to Rumsum.

    In the morning, after Norvan’s mother had lectured him the previous night and Norvan’s younger sister extracted the whole story from him, Norvan stared thoughtfully at his breakfast.

    “Mom?”

    “Yes?”

    “I think I want to join the Archaeologist’s Guild.”