Chapter Text
“Are you sure about this?”
“It’s too late for second thoughts now. We’re already here.”
Coby and Helmeppo stood on the dock at Stonefall Island, two pillars of stillness in a sea of activity. The ship that brought them here had already left, but two more had docked in the handful of minutes since, and a wave of people flowed down the gangplanks and toward the small city that could be seen about half a mine away, through the trees. The vague smell of old eggs hung on the air.
“I’m starting to regret it already,” Helmeppo continued, wrinkling his nose at the odor.
Coby wasn’t a fan of the smell either, but he managed to keep his face neutral. “You say that as though Garp made this optional,” he said, hiking his bag further up on his shoulder and starting toward the road leading to the city.
Helmeppo heaved a sigh and followed in his wake. “I still don’t like the way he said we’d find this interesting,” he groused. “Trying to figure out what he might find interesting has been giving me nightmares.”
“I’m sure it won’t be that bad,” Coby said, striving to stay positive, even though privately he’d been wondering the same. It didn’t matter. Sulking wasn’t going to make their return trip come any faster, so he had resolved to enjoy himself.
How strange, to have to steel himself for a vacation. But he couldn’t relax -- this felt wrong. Since joining the Marines, he’d built his life around them. Doing what was asked of him. Bettering himself, so he could be stronger, more capable, help more people. And that led to the leadership asking more of him. It was a virtuous cycle, one he understood and embraced his place in. One he took pride in.
A vacation didn’t fit anywhere in that cycle. It felt… guilty. He couldn’t shake the keyed-up feeling that he’d forgotten something, or neglected something he needed to be doing.
As the flow of the people heading up the hill carried them along, Helmeppo struggled to get back to a place more or less at his side so they could talk. “Why here though? Hot springs … I can never get used to that sulfur smell.”
Coby thought about asking how often Helmeppo had come to places like this before, but decided against it. They’d been friends for the last two years, so it would have to have been before. He only understood some of that time, but he knew Helmeppo viewed a lot of it as something he needed to overcome and keep in his past. If Helmeppo wanted to share more he would.
Heck, if he wanted to, nothing would stop him, Coby thought with a grin.
“Hey, you can’t tell me you find it pleasant,” Helmeppo said, incredulity in his tone. Coby almost laughed. His friend clearly took the wrong meaning from his smile. He could clear up the misunderstanding, but…
“What are you talking about?” he asked innocently.
Helmeppo gave him a flat look, one he could feel even through the visor. “You have to be kidding, right? Please tell me you’re kidding.”
“I can’t know if you’re not going to tell me what you’re talking about,” Coby said.
His poker face only lasted another couple seconds before crumbling. He started laughing harder than even he expected, while Helmeppo seemed to deflate a little. “Jerk,” he said pointedly.
“Come on, it’s not that bad anyway,” Coby said. He took a deep breath and found it was kind of true. Maybe he was getting used to the smell a little, but it was definitely not as noticeable as before. Instead, as they approached the city, it was being slowly overpowered by another smell.
Food.
There were no doubt plenty of restaurants in the city up ahead, the walk to get there was littered with a variety of snackfood sellers. The voices of the hawkers rose and fell in competition for attention as they tried to sell fruits from baskets, chilled beverages out of bamboo carts, candy from a display carried over one shoulder. Coby slowed to watch as one man, set up at a little table, deftly used little metal tools to fashion soft colored candy into the shape of a puppy with fluffy fur and a cute little tail. A small crowd of children oohed, as the lucky girl whose mother had purchased the treat took the little creature in her hands.
The candymaker began the next piece with a blob of white candy, drawing down four little legs. Coby started trying to guess what this one was going to be. A horse maybe? He thought he might be right as another blob of white went on and the head began taking shape, but the muzzle was too narrow. A fox maybe?
“Here.”
Coby turned to find his vision obscured by a cloud of pink. He took a step back, startled, only for the thing to be pulled back as well, revealing Helmeppo. The blond frowned a little. “Woah, ease up. You’re never going to have a good vacation if you’re so tense,” he said. In his hand was a stick of cotton candy. After a second he held this out to Coby again.
Embarrassed to have been startled like that, Coby said, “I don’t need-”
“You’re staring at that artist like you’re going to pounce on him,” Helmeppo said. “Which makes sense, I guess. It burns a lot of calories to do the amount of pacing you did on the ship this morning. People would think we’re going to a court martial instead of a vacation the way you’re behaving. Come on. Take it.”
Helmeppo was wrong about why he was watching the artist -- he hadn’t even been thinking about the cute little treats as food, it was just so fascinating to watch all those little movements come together to create something recognizable and cute like that. But honestly, he wasn’t wrong about the hungry. Or the pacing. So he rolled his eyes but took the offering. Swiped a bit of the candy off the stick with two fingers and ate it, then held the candy back out.
“Hm?”
“I’m not eating it alone.”
There was a pause. Then Helmeppo chuckled. “If you insist,” he said, picking at the treat as well.
They watched the candy artist make a couple more little animals, letting the crowd thin out a little before they started up the hill again.
The dock, the walk up -- it all had the feel of a festival. A palpable energy ran through the people, an energy that started to infect Coby in spite of himself. And if anything, the city proper managed to ratchet this feeling up another level or two. Every building had bright signs or banners out front, advertising tours, foods, clothes. Delicious smells came from every corner.
Coby found himself stopping again and again, taking in the sights without even realizing he was doing so. A woman in an open-air booth stood by a large map stretched over a board, painted on leather and showing its age. She pointed to different points of interest on the illustration, extolling the beauty, the danger, the wonder that would await anyone who paid the proper price to join her twice-daily expeditions. A man held out samples of wine in little cups made of folded paper, promising the vintage would put to shame anything else they tried on the island. In a small square, a quartet of musicians played a rolicking drinking song, perched on the rim of a beautiful stone fountain carved to look like a waterfall.
Helmeppo stopped first that time, watching the musicians with a small smile on his face. Coby had paid more attention to the members of the crowd who pulled one another into the open space in front of the fountain to dance. Friends, couples, families, ignoring that anyone was watching and just enjoying the moment.
After about twenty minutes, the musicians started packing up, promising to be back for the “late set” around eight. Coby and Helmeppo each tossed a couple coins in the hat as it passed their way before plunging once more into the crowded rivers of people going here and there through the city.
“The inn is supposed to be at the top of Rowan Lane,” Helmeppo said. He had the paper Garp had given them in both hands and was peering at it with such intensity one might think it was written in a foreign language. “Called … Stella’s Rest?”
Coby understood the confusion in his voice. The’d passed a few places already, and all of them had boisterous names -- The Lion’s Roar, The Thunder and Rain, The Perfect Home. Eye-catching, larger-than-life names. Stella’s Rest seemed a little out of the norm.
At the same time, the crowds were thinning out a bit. At first, Coby thought it might be because lunchtime had snuck up on them and folks were getting out of the heat and grabbing some food. But as it got quieter and quieter, he realized the cause lay elsewhere entirely.
The city they’d been walking through seemed bright, new, almost purpose-built to entertain guests. But more and more, the buildings around them now looked smaller. Humbler. More worn down.
“Must be the old side of town,” Helmeppo remarked.
“I think I like it better here,” Coby replied. The atmosphere of the other part of the city had felt infectious, but also exhausting. And while he could block out unwanted thoughts most of the time these days, crowds this big picked away at his efforts, leaving his resolve ragged at the edges.
This part of town lacked most of the boisterous voices and outgoing salespeople. There were restaurants, but they sat in innocuous buildings, only small signs to announce them. The people here also watched the two Marines with wary eyes -- not unwelcoming, but watchful. Before, no one had noticed the pair of them unless trying to sell them something.
Luckily, the roads were all well marked, with small faceplates in the walls of the buildings pointing the different roads out in eroded but still clear writing. Rowan Lane ran more or less straight up and down the small mountain the city was built on the side of.
“How old do you think this place is?” Helmeppo asked as they passed an empty-looking building with crenelations all around the top.
Coby studied it. The narrow windows didn’t look like they ever had glass -- they were the sort of narrow, angled windows intended less for air and more for raining death on the people outside. But if it HAD had glass, it felt like all the panes would have been broken by now by scared teens taking their friends’ dares. It seemed entirely at odds with the main body of the city, and even felt unique in this neighborhood, though it at least felt at home here -- like a great oak, standing for centuries, surrounded by the mushrooms that grew up and died in a season.
“Least a hundred years?” he asked. The weathering of the stone near the top made him confident in that much at least.
He half expected Helmeppo to give a different figure -- while his friend never talked about it, he’d clearly gotten a formal education at some point that gave him a background in surprising topics. Architecture certainly wasn’t out of the question.
But Helmeppo shrugged. “Sounds right to me,” he replied. “Looks creepy though. I hope the inn doesn’t… oh.”
At the flat resignation in Hlemeppo’s tone, Coby stopped and turned to see a large building at the top of Rowan Lane, as though the street were a red carpet leading to its door. The inn looked brightly lit and fairly well maintained, but old. It showed that age in the weathering on the stone that made up its skeleton, in the boards between that didn’t match their neighbors, showing repair work. The wooden placards that spelled out the Inn’s name had probably originally been white with crimson paint and gold accents, but now showed gray, dusty rose and brown.
And as Helmeppo had just been about to hope against (Coby assumed), many of its windows looked out at the run-down building.
They stood side by side on the road, just taking in the sight for a moment.
“Well. there it is,” Coby said.
“There it is,” Helmeppo agreed.
Neither moved.
“I guess we should get registered,” Helmeppo said after a while.
“Definitely.”
They stayed where they were, studying the building.
“Think Garp did this on purpose?” Coby asked.
“Yup. And I bet this is exactly the reaction he was hoping for.”
Coby supposed that was all the more reason to stop standing here. He’d be forever grateful for all the help Garp had given him, and he cared about his mentor quite a lot, but his sense of humor … “Come on,” he said, starting forward.
A small bell tinkled as they entered the reception area of the building. The feeling of cared-for age continued, with the furniture wearing its scars proudly and the floor being a mishmash of colors where some boards had faded and others hadn’t. But there didn’t seem to be a speck of dust anywhere. The woman behind the counter smiled brightly and said with impeccable professionalism, “Hello gentlemen. Do you have a reservation?”
“Yes ma’am,” Coby said, walking over to the counter while Helmeppo left his bag in a chair and walked a slow circuit of the room, examining the pictures and knick-knacks that decorated the space.
‘Name?”
Coby started to answer -- then froze. Would Garp have put this under his name? He felt fairly confident in guessing at what the vice admiral was thinking and what he would do in a given situation. But the whole you two need a vacation. I’ve made the reservations. You head out tomorrow. That’s an order! Had been so completely unexpected that he wasn’t sure he had a frame of reference to even begin to guess at the answer here.
“Uh, I’m Coby and he’s Helmeppo,” he went with, after the woman’s patient smile started to wilt a little. “But the reservation may have been under the name .. uh … Garp?” At least giving her all the potential names would cover all his bases.
But her eyebrow rose at the last name. “Oh. You’re the Marines?”
“Yes ma’am,” Coby replied, more confident now that he was back on known ground.
Her smile went from professional to natural, from pleasant to honest. “Oh, thank the seas. Let me call my husband in. Just a moment please.” She was off before he could say anything in response.
Puzzled, Coby turned toward Helmeppo, who had looked up from where he’d been examining the tomes on a small bookshelf by an easy chair. “That’s … not normal, right? She wouldn’t need him to check us in?”
“Not in my experience,” Helmeppo said. He left off his tour of the room and came to stand by Coby. “You think something’s up?”
Something was obviously up, but that wasn’t exactly what he was asking. Shaking his head, Coby said, “Nothing to be worried about I don’t think. We figured there had to be a catch right?”
“Yeah, but I was hoping we’d already seen the catch,” Helmeppo said, keeping his voice low as they heard footsteps approaching.
The woman returned, with her presumed husband in tow and introduced the Marines. Husband and wife were a study in contrasts -- the woman about Coby’s height and willowy with red-brown hair and a graceful gait that made her seem to glide rather than walk, while her husband was a few inches shorter with shocking blond hair and a build like a strongman. As he saw them standing there, he strode forward and put out a hand. Coby expected a sturdy handshake, but even with steeling himself, the force of it still ground his fingers together.
“So glad you arrived,” he said. “I’m Zaden, and she’s Nana. I’d call the kids and Elim in but we’re a bit at loose ends right now. I’m sure you’ll see them around. Come on, I’ll show you to your room, then we can talk about the problem?”
Coby glanced over at Helmeppo, who’d removed his shades for the discussion, and he could see the same alarmed question there as was echoing in his own head. A problem?
Well, no point in making a scene here. And Helmeppo seemed again to be of the same mind -- he’d already gone back to grab his bag. Together, they followed the proprietor through the inn (squeezing past several people or groups in the narrow halls) and up a set of stairs to a reasonably sized room. A desk stood in one corner with a small, wooden chair pulled up to it. Another small table held a couple small towels, a pitcher and a basin. A couple chairs faced a small fireplace. Two small beds, side by side. Out the large window, he glimpsed the ramshackle old fortified building. He couldn’t hide a small chuckle. Sometimes, it seemed like the universe conspired against his friend in the pettiest of ways.
Both men slung their bags down in one corner, out of the way. It would keep the exit routes clear. Probably not a concern here, but Marine-taught habits were carved deep. Zaden took one of the chairs near the fireplace and turned it around before sitting. Out of habit, Coby went and took the other one. This seemed like either a work meeting or a negotiation, and in either case, these days he was getting uncomfortably comfortable with such things. Across from him, Helmeppo eschewed the other chair or even the beds in favor of sitting in the window, leaning against the frame and occasionally casting glances outside.
“So,” Coby said, turning his attention fully to the stranger. “What was it you wanted to talk about?”
Zaden’s smile wavered a little, then he chuckled to himself. “Sorry. When Garp said he’d send some people to help, I admit I expected someone a little closer to his … uh … experience,” the guy said, nimbly avoiding calling Garp “old” to his subordinates. “But if he sent you, I’m sure you’re both trustworthy and strong. But for me to know where to start … what did he tell you?”
Oh boy.
“While the vice admiral gave us the information he thought we’d need,” Coby said, picking his words carefully, “I think I would prefer to hear everything from you from the beginning. If that’s OK?”
As Zaden started to answer, Coby heard an almost imperceptible snicker from Helmeppo.
“Absolutely. So, my family has run this inn for six generations. There was a small but steady clientele between the traders and the people who knew about the hot springs up the mountain and wanted a nearby place to stay,” Zaden said. It seemed Helmeppo’s amusement had been quiet enough for him to miss, or else he was putting well-practiced hospitality skills to work. “It was nice until about five years ago, when some sort of celebrity came here. An actress, with some big touring group. When she came, her fans followed, and so did the newspaper folks. And once news of Stonefall’s springs got out to the world at large, we started getting more and more people coming.”
“Sounds like a good problem to have,” Helmeppo remarked from his perch.
Zaden turned to nod at him. “At first, it was. We were full more and more of the year. Had the money to make repairs. The town grew, and had to expand the docks. New people came not just to visit, but to live. Our sleepy town became a bustling city. But all the new people brought some new problems.”
“Crime?” Coby asked, mind working overtime trying to work this out. What did Garp want them here for?
“If only it were that simple,” Zaden said. “No, something seems to be attacking temps … er, visitors when they’re in the baths. Not physically, but it’s like… they say they see things. Hear things. Sometimes feel things, but other people in the area at the time will swear no one’s there. Some believe strangers are around, trying to cause them harm. Some see their loved ones, dead in the water. Some claim to hear the voices of the dead.”
“The voices of the dead?” Coby repeated, an involuntary shiver starting across his shoulderblades. He crossed his arms, gripping each with the opposite hand, pulling himself back to the present.
“They claim it so,” Zaden said. “My family and I never experienced anything amiss. It’s always visitors. And lately, whatever creature does this has become bolder. They strike more people. They steal things. They sow discord. Sometimes they set fire to objects -- clothing, mostly.”
Coby’s next question was going to be to confirm that the malevolent being was driving people away. But … no. They’d walked through the city just now. It looked packed to the gills. “Are you worried it will escalate again?”
“Yeah.” There was a weight in that word that, until now, the man had hid quite well. How long had he been dreading this outcome? “Once the rumors got out about it, we started getting all these thrill-seekers. They’re going up there specifically to challenge the thing. It feels like they’re pushing it more and more to the extreme. I fear that it may start directly harming people. And if history repeats itself, it won’t end well for anyone.”
People were coming here looking for a ghost that made them hear the voices of the dead, or showed them horrifying visions? For fun?
From across the room, Helmeppo asked, “Something like this happened before?”
“Not like this,” Zaden amended. “But centuries ago, people thought the springs were magic. They could cure anything. All nonsense, of course. They do only the good that any hot spring does. But battles have been fought over its control. The hot springs have run red before. I would rather it not happen in my lifetime. It’s why I contacted Garp in the first place.”
Ah. That brought up a less pertinent question, but one Coby was very curious about. “Actually, if you don’t mind my asking, how do you and Garp know each other?”
Zaden chuckled. “We go way back. He used to get stuck on guard detail for some important political jerks who came to the springs, years back, when we were still mostly a quiet secret. Did more sleeping and drinking than guard duty every time, I think. I was just a kid then, and he seemed so cool and strong. At the time I thought I might join the Marines, if you can imagine that.”
It was Coby's turn to chuckle. “I think I can.”
“Anyway, I wanted an excuse to follow him around. So I was his tour guide. Though mostly I showed him shortcuts through the woods so he could sneak back here to grab a meal or a drink and get back before they knew he was gone. We kept in touch afterward, even after I decided to give up on Marine life and take over the inn. So when I realized we needed outside help, he was the logical person to ask.”
Coby looked back to Helmeppo, but no help there. It’s up to you was written all over his expression.
Well, if it was up to him, he knew what he preferred to do.
Standing, he offered the man his hand again. “Thank you,” he said. “We’ll see what we can do to help you out. We’ll head back into town and ask a few questions, for now.”
Zaden seized his hand in another bone-crushing handshake. “Thank you so much!” he said. “Your room and meals are on the house. And please, come with me. My son can show you to the guards’ headquarters. They’ve investigated the incidents, so they may have some information you could use.”
They left, locking the door behind them, and made their way back through the Inn and downstairs. There really were people everywhere. If this place wasn’t full, it was close enough that it made no difference. They followed Zaden to a small back room stacked up with cleaning supplies, spare bedding and other essentials of the hospitality trade. Across from the doorway they used was another, heavier door. An archway to their right featured only a pretty cloth partition, blocking sight of the next room.
A kid, about nine or ten, sat in the corner deftly sewing a tear in a blanket with a skill Coby envied. As they came in, he looked up guiltily, making an aborted move to hide the work until he saw his dad. Then he relaxed, somewhat.
“Rin, good, I need you to show these men to the guard headquarters,” Zaden said. Raising his voice a little, he half-shouted, “Nana! I’m sending Rin into town for a little while with these gentlemen. Is there anything you need?”
A hand swept back the hanging fabric in the doorway, letting Coby see the reception area beyond. Then Nana appeared in the open space. “What honey?”
“Anything you need in town?” he asked again, grinning at his wife.
“No, Jin ran down earlier to help a guest find their way up here. He grabbed the flour I needed. Oh, and Elim is-”
Another hand swiped the cloth all the way out of the way and another man walked through, stepping around Nana and into the store room.
There was no mistaking this man and Zaden shared blood. They had similar builds, though his was even sturdier. The same hair so light it almost looked white. They even stood similarly, the upright posture and feet positioned just so that Coby instantly recognized as similar to the Marines’ salute stance. Zaden never joined up, but had this man?
“Elim,” Jaden said jovially. “Good timing. These are Captain Coby and Lieutenant Commander Helmeppo. They know Garp.”
“Hmph,” Elim grunted, eyes on a notepad in his hand instead of at them. “Good for them.”
Nana shook her head. Zaden’s smile faded. But he shrugged it off quick and turned to his son, who’d put the sewing away completely and was watching them all with wide eyes. He took after his mother, but lacked her practiced courtesy. Obvious mistrust hardened his young face.
“Rin, show them the way and then stay with them, if they need a-”
“Nope.”
Again, Elim stopped everyone else in the room with his words. Coby felt uncomfortably like he was seeing something private as Nana and Zaden exchanged a look, clearly at a loss.
“Marines should be able to find their way without a babysitter,” he continued. “But back here, we’ve still got that hole in the walkway, Mr. Carden’s wife just got sick all over their room and dinner’s coming up soon. We can’t afford to waste workers.”
“But they’re here to help us,” Zaden explained.
Elim clearly had already moved on from the conversation, however. “Come on Zaden, Rin,” he said, turning his back on the conversation. “I need help replacing the boards on the rear walkway before someone gets hurt.”
The kid turned toward his father. “Dad, why-”
Zaden hesitated. Elim didn’t.
“Rin! Now!”
Zaden gave the Marines an apologetic smile and walked to the door, holding it open. But Rin remained where he was, looking from Coby and Helmeppo to his uncle and back. His hands balled into fists and he scowled.
“I can’t,” he told his uncle. “Dad already said I need to lead these stupid guests into town.”
“Rin!” Nana stared at her son in horror, then turned to the Marines. “I am so sorry, I don’t think my son will be able to accompany you. We need to have a talk.” Her voice remained tightly controlled, but there was no missing the sudden anxiety in her posture.
For his part, the kid gritted his teeth -- a move so brief and so unexpected that Coby almost thought he’d imagined it. Then he was off and running back into the depths of the inn. Elim cursed, then muttered an insincere apology to the room for his language before disappearing out the door with Zaden trailing him.
“He’s usually not like that,” Nana said, turning to look the way her son had run. “He’s a good kid most of the time, he’s just at that age when kids start testing limits.”
“Please don’t worry about it,” Coby said with an apologetic smile. “It’s hardly the worst we’ve been called, and I know he didn’t mean it.”
“Still…” she trailed off, then sighed. “I apologize, it seems I can’t send you a guide, but I can make you a quick map. Come with me.” She disappeared back through the curtain, leaving Coby and Helmeppo alone in a room that was just clanging with the ghosts of that conversation.
Helmeppo moved first. Lips set in a thin line, he walked resolutely over to the curtain without a word and ducked through. Coby had a moment where the awkwardness was replaced with the thought -- does he have to do that for every doorway in this place? As he followed his friend through, he glanced up and … yeah. He had a couple inches clearance. Huh. At least the ceilings in the rooms were taller.
Nana drew them a crude little map showing some notable landmarks they could use -- Coby recognized the fountain from earlier, but other landmarks like “Palace Theater” meant nothing to him.
She handed it to them with important parting words. “Dinner is from six to eight. But we can warm something up for you after that, if your work keeps you out too long.” She smiled at them and let them out from behind the counter. With nowhere else to go without looking awkward, the pair headed out of the inn and back into the softening afternoon sun.