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| − | [ST] In the end, all the water that the trembling Fellai can find doesn't do any good to stem the burning of the Devil Powder that's worked its way into Avia's armor. At last, one of the party goers ventures up from his place by the wall and volunteers that vinegar will do the trick.
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| − | [ST] The others in attendance cower on the floor or huddle against the walls, horrified by the outburst of violence they just witnessed. A few people are crying.
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| − | [Avia] Avia smiles at the the one who offered the vinegar as the pain eases, blessedly. She's not sure what to do with the people crying: they hadn't used to cry at her, very much, before- and if they had one of her brothers or sisters had dealt with it.
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| − | [Avia] So she sits by the wall, Blue Heron across her lap, and waits for reinforcements and someone to carry poor Lynx away.
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| − | [ST] "Why have you done this?" one of the women asks. The naked one that Avia had punched in the face upon entering, whose brother Avia had cut down in front of her. She has drawn a sheet around herself. Blood, her own and his, covers her face and neck.
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| − | [ST] She squats in the ruins of the feather bed, glaring balefully at Avia. The man she was sleeping with is pale, sweating, staring at nothing.
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| − | [Avia] "Orders," Avia says, with the philosophical serenity of an Immaculate monk. She didn't know much more, and what she did know, she saw no good reason to tell these Fellai.
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| − | [ST] "You won't catch him." If stares could kill, Avia would be dead many times over. "He's faster than you. And the city of Fella will not bear this insult lightly. You'll be sorry."
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| − | [Avia] Avia smiles slightly. "I will add the city of Fellai-" the word sits awkwardly on her tongue- "to those who have sworn vengeance against me.There is a list, I believe with many names on it, but who can bother keeping track?" She rises with tigerish grace, Blue Heron still naked in her hand.
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| − | [Wheel] Wheel finds the street the woman had directed him to, then runs to the house with the broken windows. A good enough neighborhood for that to be sufficient description. He glanced up - no way he would be making that climb. Instead he pounds on teh front door. From what she'd said, the Once Dead would still be at the house.
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| − | [Avia] Avia hears. "Upstairs!" she shouts. She fixes one of the more composed men with a steady stare. "Be good enough to open the door,would you?"
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| − | [ST] The gathered Fellai grumble, and there are a series of small, furtive movements. Hate seems to shimmer in the chill room like a visible thing, but no one moves to challenge Avia, their eyes either on the bright blade of her sword, or trying to look anywhere else.
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| − | [Wheel] He rattles the handle a bit, but noone had bothered to unlock it when they went through easier entrances. He thought he heard someone on the stairs, so he waited instead of breaking the door.
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| − | [ST] At least, one of them rises, looking at her the entire time. He's young, barely more than a boy, and handsome. With his attention focused on Avia, he runs into the door, jarring it. The assembled group doesn't laugh. Trembling fingers slide back the bolt.
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| − | [Avia] "I'm not going to hurt you," Avia says, trying to put a little kindness into her voice. "Not unless you give me reason."
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| − | [ST] He blinks, hurriedly stepping back from the door. Another quiet whisper runs through the crowd - Avia's statement doesn't seem to have convinced anyone.
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| − | [Avia] Well, at least that meant they would do as they were told. "It's unlocked!" Avia shouts.
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| − | [Avia] "No one's going to cause any more trouble today, are you?" she asks the others, to test this theory. She fixes them with an implacable stare.
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| − | [ST] There is no response. The Fellai cling to each other, or the walls, or the floor, only a few daring to even look at her. If what Ironheart said is correct, this may be a very short war.
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| − | [Avia] Maybe she could trust them not to murder Lynx if she left the man here. Maybe.
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| − | [ST] The door opens hesitantly, revealing a handful of militiamen who look half asleep, led by Morta. The woman scratches at her face absently, blinking large, liquid eyes.
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| − | [ST] "I got them."
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| − | [Avia] "Excellent." Avia smiles tightly. "Be wary. Some of them seem to be trained soldiers. I'm going after the target."
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| − | [ST] "I think you killed most of them," Morta says casually, as if commenting on the cold outside. "Wow. Look at all the blood in here." As she files in, the militia follow behind her hesitantly.
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| − | [Avia] "All the same." Avia says, with a hard look at the blood-covered woman. She looks at the green faces of the militiamen and wondered what it looked like to them. They could hardly hold it against her, after all. She acted their champion. "Wheel!" She recognized him, vaguely. "You're with me. Morta's in charge here."
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| − | [Wheel] He steps out from behind the militia, looking somewhat sheepish. "I couldn't find the street" he mutters to Mortia as he passes, to excuse him arriving behind her. He was tall enough to be seen over the group of them, large enough to be noticeable. Before he lost his forearm, he'd been one of the best of the Once Dead. He still had the raven, struck through after his retirement, but he had it. Most of him had bulked up since then - they'd kept him around working as a smith. Everything but the withered arm he'd been left with. His face had picked up a number of small pock scars from sparks off hot metal, his ahir had picked up some grey since he'd been in his prime, but he was certainly a strong man if nothing else.
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| − | [Wheel] He grins looking over the carnage. "Takes me back. Morta told me you needed some muscle?"
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| − | [ST] The militia begin hesitantly to bind the captive Fellai under Morta's "direction." Morta seems to be spending most of her time examining, and casually robbing, the corpses.
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| − | [Avia] Not needed, exactly, but anyone could get surrounded and she wasn't fool enough to dismiss a man for a few grey hairs. Avia nods. "Yes. We're to find someone and take him alive. He's running now." She jerks her head at the dark hole. "This way."
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| − | [Avia] She climbs through and is glad enough that Aru had gone before her. Hopefully he would run into any cobwebs before she did.
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| − | [Wheel] He nods. "We're running after im?"
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| − | [Avia] "Yes indeed." Running. That was smart, if they were to catch up to him. "If you notice any vermin, don't tell me about them."
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| − | [Wheel] He crouches down and tries to follow her in a crouch - he didn't like to put pressure on the stump, and it was hard to balance with one arm crawling. But it was not to be, the tunnel wasn't tall enough. Well, always indignities in the field, he grins to himself as he pushes himself in headfirst. It felt good to be alive again.
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| − | [ST] The tunnel is pitch black, and as drafty as the rest of the chambers the Fellai had been inhabiting. As Avia moves through, she realizes that the tunnel is cramped indeed, constructed of wood, and seems to incline downwards slightly.
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| − | [ST] Cobwebs brush against the faces of the Once Dead as they move forward in the dark.
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| − | [Avia] "Damn it," Avia mutters. Now she was thinking of the inevitable spiders, and rats, and other disgusting creatures. She supposed it was too late to ask Wheel to take hte lead, and she would have been embarassed if he asked why, in any event. Blue Heron slices in front of her, to get rid of the worst of it.
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| − | [Avia] With her other hand, she awkwardly unstraps one of the sticks the Rat Cook had been so proud of. She strikes it thrice against a wall, and an alchemical blue light flares from the tip. Now she would be able to see the vermin. Joy.
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| − | [Wheel] Wheel makes the best time he can behind, on hand and knees, propping his shoulder against the wall every time he had to move his hand.
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| − | [ST] As Avia moves forward in the dim blue light, she becomes aware of something strange. The sound of her hands and knees shuffling through the dust and filth of the passage don't sound right, sound strangely hollow. There's some sort of structure beneath the floor.
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| − | [ST] Wheel discovers this in his own way. As he moves forward, he puts his one hand down to brace himself, and the thin wood breaks beneath its weight. He looks down at his hand and sees that spikes are sprouting from between his fingers. None of them have pierced his hand.
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| − | [Avia] Avia turns to Wheel and her eyes widen.
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| − | [Avia] "Cunning little Fellai. Come on. I don't think we could easily turn around in any event." She grips the blue light between her teeth to leave on hand free and moves forward, albeit more warily than before.
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| − | [Wheel] He forces a grin, eyes wide, and braces himself on the stump to pull his hand away.
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| − | [Wheel] He was glad she'd slowed. Now he had time to concentrate on things beyond just moving.
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| − | [ST] The tunnel continues to wind, turning back sharply on itself in a series of switchbacks as the Once Dead follow it down. Carefully. At last, Avia sees dim light ahead, and feels the cold breath of the wind. She slides out of a square opening and drops several feet onto hard packed snow and ice. She stands in a mean little alley, the building Aru inhabited looms behind her; others rise on either side. Above, snow falls out of a blue-black sky.
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| − | [ST] The alley extends ahead.
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| − | [Avia] Avia brushes dirt from her hair. For once the damned northern weather was of use. They would have left tracks.
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| − | [Wheel] Wheel follows behind, lowering himself carefully from the square opening - he didn't have the balance or hands anymore to catch himself from a headfirst fall like that, but what he had now was enough muscle in his one arm to grib the edge of the tunnel and let himsefl down easily. He barely makes a noise as he drops to the wet snow below.
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| − | [ST] Both of the Once Dead instantly spot a pair of heavy tracks heading forward, as if someone departed in great haste.
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| − | [Avia] "There's a pair of lighter footprints, too- barefoot. Come on, we have to run." She plunges forward, not at a sprint, but at swift clip she could maintain for some time, even in the wretched armor.
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| − | [Wheel] He grins. "Better hunting ground, this." Bastard couldn't have left traps for them, either. He moves after the tracks in a fast stalk. The quarry was running headlong, from waht he could tell. And he'd had a headstart. This would be an endurance hunt.
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| − | [Wheel] He grimaces and quickens his pace to match hers. Not the choice he'd make, but maybe he'd been getting soft. The padding he'd added between the plates of his armor did their work. He was making less noise than their quarry had, he'd bet.
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| − | [ST] Finely-made armor may turn the blades of the enemy, but it does not serve the two Once Dead this night. As they run, the armor rubs skin red, and then raw, and even superbly fitted plate feels awkward and heavy. The tracks lead down the alley, into a back street, and across a square. For a while, the snow thins, and they vanish, but they quickly resumed. Aru and his companion were running all out.
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| − | [ST] With a few more minutes, even seconds, they might have taken the time to retreat to the summer streets, or to try to misdirect any pursuers. Instead, the path takes a beeline north, towards the docks and the frozen harbor.
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| − | [ST] On the outskirts of the market district, near a stone signpost that points towards the docks, the Once Dead find a pair of dead militia. The man and the woman stare up at the sky with dead, glazed eyes, their throats slit brutally and efficiently. The tracks wind north beyond the bloody patch of snow.
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| − | [Avia] Avia frowns at the bodies, but doesn't stop moving. "They have an escape route. We have to hurry." She grimaces and tries to pick up the pace.
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| − | [Wheel] He nods. This didn't feel like fear and flight. She might be right. Hell, she knew who the quarry was, all he knew was it was the one running.
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| − | [ST] A cold wind blows from the sea, and a fierce fall of pre-dawn snow begins. Staggering across the glittering, chill expanse becomes more difficult, and the tracks begin to fade. The Once Dead follow them into the neighborhood near the docks. In the distance, lights burn on the ships frozen at anchor in Icehome's Harbor. Behind, lights burn on Citadel Rock and the greater city itself. Between,
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| − | [ST] the chase continues.
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| − | [ST] The tracks lead into a run down slum neighborhood, where mean little shops too inferior in quality to survive in the Old Market nestle next to warehouses and small homes heavy under their burden of snow.
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| − | [ST] Suddenly, the tracks swerve aside, darting into the yard of one of the buildings. It looks little different from the buildings passed on the way here, though it and its neighbors a fresher coat of paints, and have been at least grudgingly maintained.
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| − | [ST] The front door of the home is painted a bright red, and is very thick. It hangs inward on shattered hinges.
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| − | [Avia] "Damn." She bursts inside.
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| − | [Wheel] He comes right after, pulling the long handled smith's hammer from its strap on his back. No hands left to do anything but kill now, but it seemed like the thing to do. He grins tightly.
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| − | [ST] The home is dark, and by now, Avia's glow stick makes only fitful sparks of light. Maybe the thing had gone bad, or maybe it had been a piece of junk to begin with. The vague illumination is still enough, however, to pinpoint some things about the home.
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| − | [ST] It looks well furnished, with several chairs, a large oaken table, a stove and a well-appointed kitchen. A large, overstuffed chair dominates the room, and it is from behind this that the Fellai woman steps.
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| − | [ST] In the darkness, it is difficult to make out much about her. She dresses in their usual strange fashion, spider-silk and light leather. Her form is lean, but strong, her eyes dark and angry. Hair falls in maddened tangles around her face. She holds a form against her body - a Haslanti boy, ten at the oldest - dressed in nothing but his night woolens. His dark eyes are very wide, his face very pale.
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| − | [ST] "Stop." the woman says. Her other hand presses an obsidian-edged knife into the boy's throat. "Stop right now."
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| − | [Avia] Avia looks at her feet.
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| − | [ST] She wears a pair of rugged and heavy boots. Unusual for her kind; they tend towards slippers, but there are considerations beyond mere cold.
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| − | [Wheel] He stops, leaning forward and leering at her like the predator he always had been. "This the one we're after?"
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| − | [Avia] "Not unless Aru's grown breasts. Where is he?"
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| − | [ST] "Safe, or nearly so. He will be s-soon enough. Don't come any closer." She presses the knife into the boy's throat, and he gives a slight, shrill scream. "Don't."
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| − | [Avia] Avia tilts her head. "Do you think you do an honorable thing, threatening a ten year old boy?" She turns to smile her uneasy smile at the boy. "Which way did he go, lad? She shan't harm you." She curls her fingers so that the raven's mark is clear.
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| − | [Wheel] "What are you gonna do - kill him? You do, you're ours, you know it."
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| − | [ST] The boy gasps at the sight of the tattoo on Avia's hand. "You're- You're-" The woman jerks him back sharply. But not with the hand holding the knife.
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| − | [Avia] "Point," Avia urges him.
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| − | [ST] "He won't tell you. And no, I do not find it honorable." She can't keep the bitterness from her voice. "Do you find it honorable to invade the home of my brother, and kill indiscriminately? Is that your idea of honor?"
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| − | [ST] "You don't want this boy's death on your conscience, Dead Men."
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| − | [Avia] "It wouldn't be on ours, stupid. It would be on yours, and you would carry with you into the next life. Boy, this is important to the Haslanti League. You're Haslanti clear through, aren't you? I can see it in your face."
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| − | [Avia] "Killing soldiers. That's my idea of honor. This-" Avia shrugs. "Perhaps you do things differently in the North."
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| − | [ST] "M-my papa w-was..." the boy stammers. Why he should choose this of all questions to answer is not clear. The woman scowls, pulling him back. The edge of the knife bites into his collar, and he gasps. "He went out the back!"
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| − | [ST] The woman tightens her arm around his throat, speaking quickly and firmly.
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| − | [ST] "If you leave this room, I will kill this child."
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| − | [Wheel] He grins wider, nodding at the kid, and steps forward, slow and with menace. "You know men like us. Protect yourself, him, with our conscience? You know it won't work."
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| − | [ST] "If Boar were here, he'd- he'd show you," the child says, gasping for breath. "My papa would show you. My m-mother would-"
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| − | [ST] The Fellai woman takes a lurching step back, pulling the boy with her. "No closer!" she shouts, frantic.
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| − | [Wheel] He watches her, moving forward slowly, edging her to the corner. Avia should be the one to take a chance. He'd end up killing them both if he swung. If he still had his best hand, he'd have tried it, but his left had never been as coordinated, and it wasn't now, no matter how much practice he'd had.
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| − | [ST] The Fellai woman's eyes dart between the two Once Dead. She gives a slight start as she bumps into the walls - she's literally backed herself into a corner. The fitful sparks thrown out by Avia's light make her look mad. Sweat glimmers on the woman's skin.
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| − | [Avia] "Calm down," Avia says calmly. She raises her hands as in a gesture of peace. The Blue Heron still glitters bright in her hand, and suddenly she brings it down, smooth and sudden as a striking snake. It flies from her hand, true as its name...
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| − | [ST] The Fellai woman screams, lurching as the blade flies towards her. The Once Dead can't help but notice in that moment that, as she moves, she pushes the boy away from her as if by instinct, her knife falling away from his neck. The sword flies straight and true, sinking into her chest between neck and shoulder. The Fellai woman falls, screaming in pain.
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| − | [ST] The boy bolts from her, howling in fear.
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| − | [Avia] Avia plants a boot in her chests and draws Blue Heron out. Only a drop of blood mars the blade, it cut so cleanly. "No time to waste," she says tersely to Wheel, and bolts out the back door.
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| − | [Avia] The blasted woman had delayed them a minute, at least. Likely that was all she had hoped for.
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| − | [ST] The Fellai woman struggles, blood pooling beneath her. She reaches up beseechingly towards Wheel.
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| − | [ST] "I wouldn't... hurt him. He's... no older than my own son. Please... Aru... don't..."
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| − | [Wheel] He brings his hammer down on her head - no waste of time, killing her. He turns almost as he does it, moving for the door.
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| − | [Wheel] It was a different feeling in the shoulder, hitting flesh. Different from metal. It had been a long time.
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| − | [ST] Mika cringes against the hearth, busily sucking his thumb. But these Once Dead are not his mother, and they give him no further thought as they burst out the back door of the house. The barefoot tracks wind across the yard and further down the street.
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| − | [Avia] Avia grits her teeth and sprints.
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| − | [ST] The tracks move through an alley, another street, another alley, winding closer to the docks. Now the Once Dead can see the luminous and eerie gleam of Dock Four in the distance.
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| − | [Wheel] He follows, letting her set the pace, but determined to hold to it. He wouldn't fail now that he'd been called back for service.
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| − | [Wheel] Or been pulled from the street for service in random coincidence. It was the same. They needed him again, and he wouldn't fail.
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| − | [ST] These streets are more densely settled, and more lively, home to dockside taverns that are still open this time of night, and more robust trading companies. The tracks move past these, terminating at a squat, three-story building that shines with hanging lanterns.
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| − | [ST] The headquarters of the Guild in Icehome.
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| − | [Wheel] He grimaces. THe Citadel would not be pleased for their agents to cross teh Guild. "We go after him?"
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| − | [Avia] "Clever little beast." It'd cause trouble to cut through Guildsmen. Not that it would deter her, necessarily- but causing trouble even in being captured was what spies were for. Sly Hawk, her sister, had been good at that before Port Calin had strung her up by her tongue.
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| − | [Avia] "Naturally." She knocks first, though.
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| − | [ST] A little window opens in the door, revealing the dusky brown skin and scowling, dark, almond-shaped eyes of an Easterner. "It is late. No further business."
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| − | [Wheel] He scuffs his hammer in the dirt, to get the blood off of it, and the tacky bits of skull or whatever too. Didn't want to mess up the carpet when they went in.
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| − | [Avia] "Business happens at all hours," Avia says, narrowing her eyes. She speaks Riverspeak. "We want Aru and we know you have him."
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| − | [ST] The gaze does not falter, though he does answer in Riverspeak. "A speaking dog. Don't see that every day. Who are you, to make demands of us at our doorstep?"
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| − | [Avia] "I am Avia. I fought with the White Raven at the Whispering Ruins. We marched against the Thousand Spiders and I killed the Giant of Camptor myself. I can take my prey by force if I must; your masters will know this if you do not." Avia's arrogance is without a trace of self-consciousness.
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| − | [Avia] There's a pause. "Oh, and I'm Once Dead now, too."
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| − | [ST] "Avia I know," the man says. "I did not expect to find her licking Haslanti boots." His eyes narrow. "What business do the Once Dead have with Aru?"
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| − | [Wheel] That was a long speech, but the tone told him what he needed to know. He just stood behind her shoulder and made sure he looked as mean as he was. And made sure the stump was behind her back so the doorman couldn't see it.
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| − | [Avia] "Some little Northern territorial dispute. I can't really say." Avia's shrug tells him how much it really means to her. "He's killed two poor militiamen who hadn't even drawn their weapons, so I suppose we could it for murder."
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| − | [ST] "I will contact the Guild Master about this." His tone of voice suggests that he does not want any part of this. "Remain here." The window slams shut.
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| − | [Avia] "Mmph." She would kill that man first, if it came to violence.
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| − | [Wheel] "What'd he say?"
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| − | [Avia] "He said he'll bring the Guild Master." She frowns. "And other things that will get him a mouthful of dirt if he's not careful." She keeps her eyes on the Summer Streets and windows.
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| − | [Avia] "Perhaps you'd better go around to the other side. It'd be like the Guild to split hairs by having him go out the back as they delayed us up here in the front."
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| − | [ST] The front door opens, and the scowling man stands revealed, rubbing at himself and stamping his feet to keep warm in the sudden gust. "The Guild Master says you may enter."
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| − | [Wheel] He nods, and stalks around the building - no need to tip them off on the change.
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| − | [Wheel] Well, they were being allowed in it seems. He glances around to corner to make sure the other door was closed, and then turned back to rejoin Avia.
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| − | [Avia] Avia exchanges glances with Wheel. "Great." She walks in, playing with the hilt of Blue Heron. She'd sheathed it to be polite. Social situations were always the source of some anxiety.
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| − | [Wheel] He scrapes off his hammer again, leans it agains tthe wall, and pulls the harness around so he can tie it back in place. A practiced moment, and he was ready to follow.
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| − | [ST] Hastily, the Once Dead are ushered within. The room beyond is ostentatious and opulent, with a pair of enormous fireplaces at either end sending out waves of heat. Tapestries cover the walls - though none are placed too near the flames. Rich rugs cover the floor, and the room is full of strange furniture, worked in ivory and black ash from the Eastern shadowlands, and mother of pearl, and gold, and jade, and - well, it's rather a lot to take in.
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| − | [ST] The inside of the building would feel sweltering to any Haslanti. Multiple hearths burn, and the entire premises seems heavy with a mixture of various fumes and smokes, the air thick with the smell of spices.
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| − | [ST] At length, the pair are led into a finely appointed room paneled in white ash, where the Guild Master waits. Varun Silverpalm makes no pretense that the visit has not woken him from slumber - he has hastily dressed in a simple green robe, and his eyes are still red. He is not, perhaps, what would would expect of a Guild Master.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] He looks young, and his limbs are thin, sticklike. His flesh is badly marred by acne scarring, and he has a long, awkward, somehow delicate neck and throat. A pair of prissy-looking spectacles perch on a short, round nose. As the Once Dead enter, he turns to face them, gesturing with one hand towards a pair of empty chairs.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Wheel] He takes the seat, pausing to awkwardly pull his harness around so that the hammer wouldn't interfere with the back of the chair.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Wheel] The damp of melted snow on his armor would ruin the apholstery, but that was the guilder's buisness, not his.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Avia] Avia sits. His youth would make him very well-connected, or very precocious.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Master Varun turns, waiting silently. It is clear he wants the Once Dead to make the first move.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Avia] "A fugitive, Aru, came here. The League wants him."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Wheel] He let her do the talking. All he knew of the man they were after was his name and gender. And probably that he was Felai.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Varun nods, raising a finger.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] When he speaks, his voice is - odd. Shrill, given to cracking, yet still strangely lyrical.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Haslanti come
| |
| − | | |
| − | offending all decorum
| |
| − | | |
| − | who could feign surprise?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Avia] "I'm from Port Calin, coinsman." Not that Port Calin was famed for its decorum, but they trafficked heavily in slaves and drugs, so somehow the Guild managed to overlook it.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Avia] "And anyway, we can't all be Wordsmiths. That's true even in the Scavenger Lands." Quick flash of a smile.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST]
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Yet you wear their sign
| |
| − | | |
| − | Raven trapped in cage of flesh
| |
| − | | |
| − | You are one of them."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST]
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Aru we know well
| |
| − | | |
| − | a man of reputation;
| |
| − | | |
| − | a fine customer.
| |
| − | | |
| − | You are crude strangers
| |
| − | | |
| − | dogs barking at my doorstep
| |
| − | | |
| − | in hope of a bone.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Dull Nexus children
| |
| − | | |
| − | know the worth of friend and dog.
| |
| − | | |
| − | And I am no child."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Avia] Avia shrugs. "You are a guest of Icehome. Do you not also have obligations there? Aru murdered two men, and more besides. This is a serious matter; I would not care to be closely associated with Aru, lest all my customers- and the Citadel itself- start at wondering. Guest of Icehome, or a pattering enemy spy?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Wheel] Enemy spy? No wonder they were after him. Spy for the Fellai? Someone else?
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] He nods, considering.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST]
| |
| − | | |
| − | "If he is a spy
| |
| − | | |
| − | You have the burden of proof,
| |
| − | | |
| − | cast blame too freely."
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Surrender a friend
| |
| − | | |
| − | to false Haslanti justice?
| |
| − | | |
| − | No pleasant prospect."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Avia] "Why else would the Haslanti want him? He ran. He murdered two men. Good enough for me; you can find their cooling corpses if you like I am but a weapon, Wordsmith. But I am a potent one, and I'm not good with political matters." She smiles, fierce.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] At this, Varun pauses for a moment, seemingly rocked back on his heels. He putters with the knick knacks on his desk, his hands betraying a slight tremble. His face, however, soon hardens again.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Steel diplomacy
| |
| − | | |
| − | I expected no better
| |
| − | | |
| − | From you dying things
| |
| − | | |
| − | Shall I quail in fear
| |
| − | | |
| − | when White Ravens show their beaks?
| |
| − | | |
| − | You think me a fool.
| |
| − | | |
| − | If you spill our blood
| |
| − | | |
| − | This land will know the Guild's wrath,
| |
| − | | |
| − | Prosperity's death."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Wheel] He scowls at her. An outlander, she probably didn't care that she was going to cause trouble. "Are you holding him here? I am sure that our superiors can provide you with the evidence that you need if you will allow us to report to them."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Avia] "If you've already allies of the Haslanti's enemies, I don't see how it makes any difference to have it out in the open. If you're neutral, be neutral." She cocks her head. "And if you're as innocent and well-intentioned as you claim, I wonder at how good a friend Aru is, to bring trouble down on you." She nods to Wheel.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Varun shrugs.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Men betray for love
| |
| − | | |
| − | Revenge, caprice, advantage;
| |
| − | | |
| − | Myriad reasons
| |
| − | | |
| − | Now let me ask you-
| |
| − | | |
| − | is my betrayal so cheap?
| |
| − | | |
| − | Tell me of its worth."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Avia] "Do you put your personal friendship above your loyalty to the Guild?" The Guild was full of such vipers, she did not doubt they were lined up ten deep to take his place.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST]
| |
| − | | |
| − | "If that were the case
| |
| − | | |
| − | I would not stand before you
| |
| − | | |
| − | Wearing these fine robes.
| |
| − | | |
| − | We all have a price;
| |
| − | | |
| − | The Guild knows this lesson well.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Can Once Dead haggle?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Wheel] 'I don't know that there is anything I can offer you that you would value - a service, a sword? Let us report to our superiors, agree to hold the man long enough for them to return and haggle with the treasury behind them."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Avia] "We're soldiers. We're not authorized to speak for the government." Avia scowls. "But go on, tell us what you want."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Wheel] He was smiling, leaning important. Pulled off the street hours ago, and already negotiating with the local Guilder. The Once Dead had the life.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Varun smiles now, extending his hands, and ticking off his requests on his slender fingers.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST]
| |
| − | | |
| − | "I make three requests
| |
| − | | |
| − | Like the famed Jak O'the North
| |
| − | | |
| − | I am a shrewd man."
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Aru has fine goods
| |
| − | | |
| − | Some we already possess
| |
| − | | |
| − | The others I want."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] He ticks off a second request on his fingers.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "I require a spy
| |
| − | | |
| − | Princess Cadda seeks to rise
| |
| − | | |
| − | and she bears watching."
| |
| − | | |
| − | "One among you knows
| |
| − | | |
| − | the warmth of her fine soft bed.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Avir will see me."
| |
| − | | |
| − | "The Third is simple;
| |
| − | | |
| − | You will not seize Aru here.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Take him from the docks."
| |
| − | | |
| − | "We will guide him there
| |
| − | | |
| − | as the hunter drives the hare.
| |
| − | | |
| − | You will spring the trap."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Avia] "The first: only once the Haslanti have gone over it and removed any sensitive materials. The second and third, fine."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Avia] The Haslanti would interpret 'sensitive' fairly broadly, she suspected. Enough to make it fair.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Varun raises an eyebrow, but then he nods once more.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST]
| |
| − | | |
| − | "I do not trust you
| |
| − | | |
| − | Words are no true currency.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Steelhand must promise."
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Steelhand must sign.
| |
| − | | |
| − | And then you shall have my friend;
| |
| − | | |
| − | you have paid for him."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] The smile that crosses his face is slick, false.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Avia] She thought she knew which one was Avir, a smooth-faced looking young man who wasn't as clever as he thought he was. If he would bed a snake once, he'd do it twice. "Steelhand?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Avia] "Why negotiate with us if you want him? Go to him, if our word is not good enough." She leans back in her chair and crosses her arms.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Wheel] He sits back, smiling. It was as good as he remembere, as it had always been.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Varun leans back, pulling a pipe from his desk and lighting it up, puffing casually.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST]
| |
| − | | |
| − | "The raven is wise
| |
| − | | |
| − | whether it be black or white.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Our talk is over."
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Aru will not flee
| |
| − | | |
| − | from this gilded cage of ours.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Bring us Steelhand's word."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Avia] "Fine." She looks at Wheel. Let him wake the boss up; he didn't have a career anymore.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Wheel] "You'll have it," he adds, just to have said something to the man. He'd stay in on the grab at the docks, if he had to fight someone to do it.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Varun gestures briskly towards the door.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Wheel] He turns and strides from the room, stride straighter than it would have been four hours previous, no longer leaning to one side to compensate for the arm that wasn't there.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Avia] She had to give him this: he was good at dismissing people. White Raven would have left him quivering in a corner with a lifed brow; Avia can only slink off after her 'comrade.'
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] As the door closes, Varun sinks into his seat, smiling at some joke known only to him. Fucking Haslanti.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Wheel] "I'll get Steelhand's word. This was an urgent enough mission to get it now?" he gestures at the night sky out the windows.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Wheel] "You want to stay to watch the building, make sure Aru stays, right?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Avia] She grimaces. "I suppose so." She wondered if Aru had delivered some intelligence to the Guild, that made them ready to give him up now. She scowls. It hardly mattered; what did she care for the Haslanti League? There would be fighting enough to satisfy her, whatever happened here.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Avia] She crosses her arms and leans against a post. "Go run to Steelhand, then."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Wheel] He nods, and is off. He remembered where everything was. It hadn't been Steelhand in his day, but command would hardly have changed with the new commander. Things were too entrenched there.
| |
| − | | |
| − | ----
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] The questioning room lies far beneath the Tomb, as low as it is possible to go. Moisture hangs heavy in the air - subterranean water flows here, too deep to freeze. Nitre has formed on the walls, and puddles stand untended on the floor.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Elk, Otter, and Morta make their way towards the chamber, their footfalls echoing loudly in the empty tunnels.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "I wonder what this place used to be," Elk says. "Surely they didn't build it just for us."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] "Maybe it was for one of the those dead kings, ages and ages ago." She grins suddenly. "Or Jak himself."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Burial vaults, maybe." Morta offers quietly. "It is called the Tomb." She adds after a moment, as if reassuring herself.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] "Think the bodies are still down there?" Otter asks, ghoulishly.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "I knew this place reminded me of home."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Elk makes a face at this.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "I doubt it. Can you imagine the number of pissed off Hungry Ghosts we'd have, considering what goes on within these walls?" He suddenly shuts up, nodding ahead of them.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] "What?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] A heavy wooden door, bounded with iron, sits at the end of the long, damp hallway. Flickering torches in sconces do little to dispell the gloom. It's nearly midday now, but you couldn't tell it down here.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Down here it's always night." Morta finishes, as if to herself.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "We're here," Elk says.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] "What do they even do down here?" Otter pushes open the door, refusing to be intimidated by the gloom of her surroundings or the apprehension of her companions.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "They-" but Elk doesn't have time to answer before she enters. The room within is dark, musty, and it stinks, of urine and something else, bitter, acrid, like old sweat. Soldas is there, standing under the room's only torch, his hands uncomfortably in his pockets. Slime drips from the ceiling, landing on the shoulder of his fine uniform, but he doesn't seem to notice.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] "You," Otter greets him with some disappointment, unaware or indifferent to the rudeness of the greeting. She cranes around him. "What's going on? Why are we here?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] The curly-headed one, Iscal, hovers near Soldas as he always does. On the other side of the room stands a tall, lean figure in a close-fitting cloak. The figure stands next to a stout chair. Belts secure a man in the chair by his arms and legs. The man is dark skinned, dark haired, and would be handsome if not for the black eye and the look of terror on his face. He looks somehow familiar.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Soldas doesn't say anything for a moment. Finally, he clears his throat, and nods to the chair.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Questioning."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] "Oh." Otter frowns at him. She thought she recalled..something.... "What did he do?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] She grows more troubled by the chair, and the straps. They didn't mean to- well, she supposed they must. The settled folk did nothing cleanly, her father had said. She bites her lip and glances at Springing Elk.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Elk doesn't meet her gaze.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "He has plotted to attack the League," the cloaked figure says, before Soldas can offer his quiet explanation. The voice is harsh, but clearly feminine. "He will be questioned to uncover a plot vital to all of the League."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Yes, yes," Soldas says impatiently. "I wish you would just get on with it. And shouldn't Ironheart be here instead of me?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "She has her duties," the woman says. Then, she turns to the newcomers. "You, the pale one. Outside. The other two here, behind the chair. You will assist me as I require."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] "Oh," Otter says a bit weakly. It made it worse that Elk wouldn't look at her. She moves to stand behind the chair, watching the man's face all the while. She recognizes him when they're both positioned behind. Her eyes widen.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] She grabs Elk's arm. "Elk, we KNOW him," she hisses.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Something about Otter's voice makes the man look up. He smiles weakly, though his eyes look like a terrified animal's.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Fair in face, cursed by luck," he laughs. It sounds like a dying man's cough. "Do you remember?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "I-"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] "Y-yes..." Otter is pale. Elk had slept with his sister, or his companion, or whatever.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] There is a sharp sound as the cloaked woman strikes him in the face. Otter finds herself staring at a pair of intense eyes, a prominent, hawklike nose that juts from the hood. "Do you know this man?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] "I...I guess. He was a merchant on a ship, he played a game of stones with us." He had flirted with her and said she was pretty.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] The woman steps forward, seizing Otter by the elbows, leaning closer. "When was this? What did he tell you? What do you know?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] Otter's stricken gaze flicks from him to the woman. "Nothing, I- It was ages ago, I don't remember. He was just some merchant." She touches her other ear gingerly. "I lost my silver earrings in play."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "I was there," Elk says, speaking at last. "It is as she says." He certainly doesn't mention that he had bedded one of the Fellai women. Probably.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Strange coincidence," the cloaked woman says, moving away from Otter, releasing her abruptly and somehow violently. "You will tell me everything you know later. And I assure you, if you have had any shady dealings with this man, he will tell." She turns back to the prisoner, voice firm. "He will tell us everything."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] Otter swalllows.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Iscal, bring me the instruments."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] Iscal had watched the exchange with mild eyes, detached from the whole business. He starts, reminded he had any place in tihs at all. He brings a tray of silver tools in a velvet case. He watches her hands touch them with some unease; he used some of them in his day-to-day work, it was painful to think of how she might spoil them.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] He glances at Otter. He had been in her place himself, a time or two, or three; it's enough to make him pity her. "It's easier if you don't watch too closely," he offers.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] He hadn't wanted Soldas to come, but Ironheart could be a hard woman.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] Spritely Otter watches the silver instruments with green-faced fascination.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] The woman slides a long, pointed tool from the case, her eyes fixed on the bound man. "I don't want you to have any illusions, Aru. You will endure a lot of pain here today. The sooner you confess, the sooner it will be over. But of course, you never will. Your kind never do."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] She shrugs. "Know this. I am Hooded Owl, and I have broken hundreds. I would break thousands for the good of the League. Shall we begin?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Where's my sister?" Aru asks, his voice suddenly frantic. "If you promise not to do this to her, I-"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "She is dead," Hooded Owl responds. "No negotiation. You." She nods at Otter. "Hold his head back against the chair."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] Otter bites her lip. "I- what are you going to do to him?" Her hands curl up into tight little balls at her side.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Iscal] Iscal glances at Hooded Owl. Like Ragged Red in one way, at least. She liked pain. She might have lied to the man, after all. "Talk," he tells the spy. "She'll rip it out of you eventually. It's more pleasant for everyone if it's sooner."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "You know what I am going to do to him." Hooded Owl says. "It is the only way to be sure. Pain does not lie. But Iscal is right." She slaps the man lightly on the face. "The sooner you talk, the sooner it will end."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Tears course down Aru's face. He spits in hers. The woman does not so much as flinch.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] Slowly, so slowly, Otter reaches out and grips his head gently between her hands, drawing it back. Her face is stiff as wood and she can't look at anything.Why didn't they have straps for his head, if they had straps for everything else?
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Aru's head feels strangely cold in Otter's grip. His skin is cool, his sweat almost icy. Owl gives her a nod, then holds the pointed instrument up in front of Aru's face. "Now," she says. "Tell us how you planned to attack the League..."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Twenty minutes later, blood is splattered all over the chair, Aru, Owl, and Otter. It is cold, too, chilly little dots on her forearms, the back of her hands, her face.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Aru screams. "I don't know, I don't KNOW! I was selling weapons to the Twisted Hills People. We all do it! The Guild does it! You do it! That's all! THAT'S ALL! PLEASE- THAT'S-"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] His screams threaten to deafen Otter, who, after all, is very close.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] "Please," Otter whispers under her breath, so soft. She rests her forehead against the back of the chair. She straightens up and meets the woman's eyes.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] She lets go his head, and he sags forward. "He's- he's telling the truth, he must be."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "But he can't be telling the truth," Hooded Owl says. "Or if he is, he's not telling all of it. He had a plan to escape the city. He had already made arrangements to be on an airboat out of here later today. Why would he do that?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "I got a message," Aru babbles. "From back home, that's all, that's all-"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "You seem to not have the stomach for this," Hooded Owl says, looking Otter up and down contemptuously.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] In the corner, Iscal and Soldas are talking quietly. Soldas has gone more pale than usual. Iscal's hand rests atop his own, but Soldas doesn't seem to notice it.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] Otter bares her teeth. "No. I don't. And I think it's no recommendation to you or you Greenfielders that you- relish it."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "I do not relish this." Hooded Owl drops one of the bloody implements. It rolls across the floor into the darkness. "I defend the League. I do what is necessary."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] Otter's hands are trembling.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "If you cannot do the job, I'm sure your compatriots can."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] "Are you?" Otter says, her voice an icy lash. "I am not." She doesn't look at Elk; she doesn't know what she'll do if he doesn't meet her gaze. "And I WILL not do this job any longer."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] Anymore. It was so easy to stop now; Otter feels tainted that she'd ever begun. She drops down beside Aru and puts her hand over his. Her fierce eyes meet weeping ones. "If you hold any secrets back, keep them tight between your teeth, for the safety of your people. There is no honor in giving them up." She looks up to glare at Hooded Owl and raises her voice. "Nor is there honor in any victory won through such a means."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Hooded Owl's arm draws back, fingers curling into a fist.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "I wouldn't," Elk says, speaking for the first time. His voice is raw.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] Otter's lip curls back. "I'm not tied up in a chair."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "You will pay for this," Hooded Owl says. "Both of you. I will not forget."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Soldas. Take these... soldiers of yours out of here. Discipline them. Iscal, come here. Hold him." Hooded Owl wants to scream with frustration. If only these fools knew how they had emboldened him. They'd given him courage, extended the time he must resist, the time he must suffer. It was all their fault. Yes.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Aru does not reply to Otter's gestures of kindness. His eyes are looking somewhere very, very far away.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Otter] "I hope you do not." Otter says, in fine fettle now, all glittering anger. She leaves before her 'commander' takes even a step towards her.
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] Soldas follows, hot on Elk and Otter's heels. Morta jerks in astonishment at the door slams open behind her. "Elk," Soldas commands shortly. "Remain here in the hall. Observe." His voice trembles slightly. "Otter. Come with me. Now."
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] Fresh screams are already rising from the cell behind them.
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| − | | |
| − | [Otter] A shudder runs through Otter's shoulders. Her eyes meet Elk's, and her fingers brush his. You don't have to, she mouths to him, then follows Soldas up.
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] Soldas takes Otter by the hand, jerking her roughly after him dow the dank hall, up a flight of stairs, and another, and another, his shoulders set angrily. Gradually, they begin to climb back towards civilization. The screams fade away.
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] In their place come the sounds of the Once Dead at work - training, shouting, laughing.
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| − | | |
| − | [Otter] It seems less real as they climb towards sunshine, as if Hooded Owl had created her own world down below.
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] A few catcalls chase the pair of them as they begin to move through inhabited territory. Most of them have never seen Soldas yell at ANYONE.
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] At length, they arrive at Soldas's office. He throws open the door violently, nearly shoving Otter within. The door slams behind him.
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "You fool," he snaps. "You damn fool! What do you think you are doing?" The dark bags under his eyes look bruised, somehow livid.
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| − | | |
| − | [Otter] Otter even feels a bit nervous. "Refusing to participate in something I can only condemn," she says steadily.
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| − | | |
| − | [Otter] "There is no honor in that dungeon."
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "You-" Soldas looks at her, face contorted in anger. "You- don't you realize what you've done? Don't you-"
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] He lunges towards her, and she expects a strike, until she realizes his arms are around her, embracing her clumsily. He stammers, as he always does when he discusses anything of import.
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Y-you're a good, a good soldier," he manages, at last.
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| − | | |
| − | [Otter] She freezes in surprise, then slowly pats him on the back. She supposed he hadn't liked it down there either. "It's okay," she says cautiously.
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] He breaks away from her, clearly embarrassed, and fumbles around for a handkerchief in his desk. He tosses it to her, so she may wipe away the blood.
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "I have no authority to stop that. You must understand. Steelhand himself couldn't stop that. The Ears are the Ears."
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| − | | |
| − | [Otter] She wipes away the blood, trying not to think too much about it. "Why do they get to use use the Dead as-" thugs. Torturers. "Why use us,then?"
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "We are tools to them. You must realize that. We exist to be used, and to die. We exist to do ugly things." He shakes his head. "We do not have to enjoy them. I may be the worst scalelord in the Once Dead," he says this with quiet resignation. "But I am not so bad as to enjoy that."
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| − | | |
| − | [Otter] There's no denying he's the worst scalelord, by far- unless they have someone hidden under a rock somewhere, so she just pats him on the back, all the consolation she can offer. "But, your man Iscal-"
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| − | | |
| − | [Otter] She stops, blushing.
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "What of Iscal?" His shoulders stiffen.
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| − | | |
| − | [Otter] "I mean- I- he didn't even hesitate."
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Iscal is loyal to me." After a moment, he clears his throat. "He saved my life many times over."
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| − | | |
| − | [Otter] Otter eyes him. "Maybe. They say he and you-" she stops again. It was easier to probe at the subject of meanspirited gossip, somehow, than to think back to that hole.
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "I know what they say. Rumors, merely. Enough of them." He waves his hand sharply. "We need to discuss your actions today. I will punish you as lightly as possible, but there must be appearances. I think I will start by chewing you out for an hour or so, here."
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| − | | |
| − | [Otter] "What about Elk?" He was stilling listening to that awful-
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Elk will tell me what happened, later. I can trust him."
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] He doesn't sound so sure.
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| − | | |
| − | [Otter] "Couldn't Morta?" Morta hadn't seemed bothered by anything.
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Elk seems more reliable. After all, he questioned it." Soldas scratches the back of his head nervously.
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| − | | |
| − | [Otter] "Morta will be paying more attention," Otter says in persuasive tones. "And she's very trustworthy person. She returned my ring." Otter suspected her of stealing the ring in the first place, but this wasn't the time to bring it up.
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Fine," Soldas says, exasperated and defeated. "Go fetch him."
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| − | | |
| − | [Otter] She smiles, as if he had given her a present, and hugs him before dashing off down the stairs. She schools her face into neutrality as she emerges in the sunlight.
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| − | | |
| − | [Otter] -
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| − | | |
| − | [Otter] It's only later, when they emerge into the sunlight together with screams still ringing in their ears, that Otter spots the spot of blood still left on her white mink-skin collar. She remembers what Aru's face looked like after ten minutes; what it probably looked like now. She stomach roils, and before she knows it she's on her knees vomitting up her last dinner like an infant.
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| − | | |
| − | [Otter] It steams faintly in the snow. All her hoarded dignity seems to fly out with it, as her stomach rebels until she dry heaving. She hadn't stopped it all. She had helped, for a while. That would never change.
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] Elk stands behind her, uncertain. "Otter-"
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] After a moment, he pats her back softly. "It's over now."
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| − | | |
| − | [Otter] She stares at her own vomit a while, thinking a lot of things. She rubs her eyes rapidly to get rid of the tears, so that Elk wouldn't see them when she turned around. When she speaks, her voice is tolerably steady. "I know that. Why don't we- why don't we-" she didn't want to go hunting just now, and she was hard pressed to think of anything else they did together. She stands. "Come on, you can try to teach me archery again."
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "I-" He reaches out, taking her hand. "Okay. Let's go."
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| − | | |
| − | [Otter] He had been failing to teach Otter archery for years, and once outright accused of her deliberately failing to learn.
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| − | | |
| − | [Otter] -
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| − | | |
| − | [Otter] They are on guard duty later that night, and Otter should be sleeping in one of the hard bunks assigned to the Once Dead with that job. She curls up with her pillow under her bed and stairs at the bunk above her. Every time she closes her eyes she sees Aru. Sometimes on the ship, bruised and bloody, sometimes tied up in the chair and laughing to her about the fair and the lucky.
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| − | | |
| − | [Otter] At last she can't stand it. She walks across the room to where Elk slept and crawled in under beside him, nudging him over with her elbows. The bed is really too narrow for two people, unless they were determined.
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] Elk turns to her, startled, but he doesn't protest very much. Maybe he understands.
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| − | | |
| − | [Otter] Still, she sounds defensive. "I couldn't sleep. Don't hog the blankets." She curls up against him, and he's warm. She closes her eyes, and sleeps.
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