Chapter Text
The Blue Fox Tavern spills orange light out onto the snow. It never seems to get dark here. Even outside of the calendula glow through the windows, everything is still lit up in dusty miller shades of half-light. I hate snow.
"And we have arrived!" the Warp Keeper announces. "See, that wasn't so bad. Just a quick stroll down the street. I told you it wasn't far." Down the street? If I walked this far in Aestiva I'd be in a completely different neighbourhood.
People turn to look at us when we walk in. A few people raise a hand or make noises of greeting at Kirin. A few more narrow their eyes at the rest of us. I pull my hood up a little tighter and shrink behind my companions.
“Oh and would you look at that, there’s a free table by the fire!” Kirin immediately beelines for it, so I guess I have to follow her along with everyone else.
It’s warm. I can say that about it. Warmer than the outside, where the wind has been trying to bite my face off since we got to this hinterland. It wasn’t a short walk here, no matter what he says. I’m so tired I feel like I might sink through my seat. Everyone else starts taking off their furs, so I guess I have to do that too. Wallace hangs his on the back of his chair to dry off near the fire. He keeps the stupid purple coat on, unfortunately. I wish he didn’t insist on wearing such striking clothes. It’s bad enough walking around with two amphibians. One amphibian. I don’t need him drawing attention as well by looking like a bouquet of violets. Maybe he’ll take it off if I ‘accidentally’ spill something on it. Maybe he’ll hang it by the fire to dry and I can tug a few errant sparks over when he’s not looking.
“You were right, Warp Keeper,” says Dahli from the other side. "This is nicer than I was expecting. Quite cozy."
It looks incredibly boring, but I can't say that out loud.
“Please, when I'm not attending to the gate, you can call me Kirin. But yes, it’s quite nice isn’t it? Best place in town to get a drink and catch up with the neighbours. Most of my people spend a couple of evenings here a week.”
“Oh really? Will they be joining us tonight?” Dahli asks.
“No, I’m afraid I simply can’t spare them tonight. Far too much to do to get the gate stabilized, now that you’ve fixed our little power problem." Little. I wouldn't call a massive construct that tried to kill anyone who interacted with the Leysiphon a little power problem . "Speaking of fixing problems, you all look like you need a drink. What can I get for you? Whatever you like, it’s the least I can do after everything you’ve done for us today. Your rooms too, if you’d rather not stay in the spire for the next few days while we run around getting everything ship-shape.” It’s the least she can do after she sent us into somewhere so dangerous without proper warning. It’s the least she can do after one less of us came back than she sent off.
Dahli answers first, “Actually Warp Keeper, I wanted to ask you if there was a shrine anywhere near here that I might be able to visit? I think I need a few moments of reflection with Sylvestris after everything that’s happened"
“Oh, Dahli, I wish you’d said something sooner. There’s a room back at the spire where some of my researchers have set up a few different shrines. I imagine it’ll be one of the few spaces of calm in the spire tonight, what with everyone rushing around on the upper floors. You’re welcome to make use of it for anything you need, any prayers or... rituals? I must confess I'm not familiar with Sylvestrian practices. Would you like me to show you to it?” She talks too much. It makes the pain behind my eyes worse. Crying always gives me such a headache.
“No, thank you for the offer, but I’m sure Sylvestris will guide me true. I'm sure these two would appreciate the company as well.” he says, rising slowly from his chair. Before he turns to leave, he puts a hand on Wallace's shoulder, “Will you be alright for a little while? I won’t be far, I promise.”
There’s something in the way he speaks to him that I don’t know if I like. It doesn’t sit right in my stomach. It's probably just that I’m hungry. Wallace makes a small noise and nods without speaking, and Dahli turns to me.
“How about you? Are you okay with me leaving for a little while? If you’d rather I stay I can," he says.
Roots below, he doesn’t have to make such a big show of leaving. He could have been halfway there by now. He doesn’t put a hand on my shoulder, which is fine. I would have moved away anyways.
It’s a relief when he turns away. Acting like I’m trying and failing to put on a brave face is exhausting, even more than actually being sad would be. I'm already so tired.
Now that he's not holding us up with needless performatives, maybe we can finally eat something.
"What's the food like here?" I ask Kirin
"Oh it's marvelous. Don't tell Marika, but if I had all the money in the world, I'd never eat in the Spire again. Would you like me to go up to the bar and order some food and drinks while you warm up here?"
I'd like a fucking cigarette, and then five more. Well at least one thing can go right tonight. I don't think I've been full since Inisium, and this place looks big enough to have a decent menu.
"That would be nice, thank you. Uhhh." I know this. I can remember this. It's in my notebook somewhere. "Two plates of lamb, cooked however they recommend. Not mutton, if they don't have lamb then whatever white meat goes best with the drinks."
I'd eat month old horsemeat right now, but Wallace is picky enough at the best of times. "Picky Eater". I wrote that down on day two, when I had to figure what each of them could need from me to keep me around for. Now he hasn't eaten since Dahli coerced him into a few bites of the preserved food we scavenged from Iotari Spire's kitchen before we started back to Alphara.
Kirin laughs at me.
"Let me guess, you're from Laboros? Aestiva? One of the big trade cities? I couldn't hear it in your voice, but you must be." She doesn't give me space to ask what she means, just continues. "Around here, you don't really get to order whatever strikes your fancy. There's a good selection of drinks, but Ananias doesn't cook more than one or two different meals per night."
Well that fucking sucks. How the fuck am I supposed to be useful now?
"Oh. Well, I guess that's fine. We'll have.. whatever is on the menu for tonight?" I don't really know what else to say. I have to fix this somehow.
I might still have one banquet bead left from the regalia. I turned most of them into hopia or candied flowers, but there should be one left in the same pocket as my cards. I could probably talk him into taking it, as long as I don't tell him it's my last one. At least I know I've done a decent job hiding my accent.
"No need to sound so dour. Ananias' a brilliant cook, I'm sure you'll love it. And to drink?” If this bitch tries to get me to cheer up one more time I'm going to steal every single key from her big rattling keyring and hide each one of them in a different snowbank.
“Whatever’s strong” I answer. I don’t have high hopes about the drinks I can get this far from anywhere worth being.
“That I can do. And for you, my friend?” she looks over at Wallace, who doesn’t respond. He doesn’t seem to notice he’s being spoken to at all. I doubt he’s noticed anything since we walked in. Honestly, I’m not sure he’s noticed anything since we passed out on the floor next to the fire in Iotari Spire.
“I think I’ll start you off with a round of Angel’s Own for the table, if there’s no objections.” Kirin says after a moment’s silence. Why is it always so fucking awkward when someone dies.
There are no objections, so she stands from the table and heads in the direction of the bar. Immediately she gets caught up in conversation with someone. Which, on one hand, means more time til she comes back and starts trying to make cheery small talk, but on the other hand, means more time til she comes back with alcohol. She points back at us and says something that I can’t make out over the musicians performing on the little stage on the other side of the fireplace. I turn away, moving my sleeve over my eyes. The less people here know my face, the better.
There were snowflakes on Wallace's eyelashes when we walked in. They've melted now. Some of them are still balancing on his eyelashes. The rest have suffused into his mascara. It's a little smudged now. I'm not going to tell him. If he knew, he'd fix it, and I like how it brings out his eyes.
He’s staring at nothing, turning over Nil’s ring where it hangs on a cord around his neck. Rolling it back and forth between his thumb and forefinger, like he has been all day. It’s silver, unlike the rings on his fingers, but it blends in with them when it catches the firelight. He can't have grabbed it on purpose. The cord's still where he dropped it behind the lacings of his shirt, which already weren't doing much to hold it shut. Now they aren't even trying, which is much nicer to look at than suspicious small town folk..
He realizes that I’m there, and turns to look at me. The fire burns a little hotter. He doesn't say anything, just looks at me with those intense green eyes. He hasn’t said anything since he finished telling Kirin a version of what happened to Nil. (He was too nice about it. I could have stopped it if I hadn’t been so stupid as to let that rotting construct knock me out before I could break it.) I should say something to him to lift his mood, but I don't know what. Normally when I'm around people who have lost someone, I'm hiding in the rafters or climbing out a window. Dahli's so much better at this than me.
I twist my wrist back and tug on his sleeve. He makes a questioning sound, but doesn't resist when I pull on the lace, turning his palm up. I drop the banquet bead in his hand. his finger brush against mine when I let it go. What was he trying to do with my hand? Whatever.
"In case you can't eat whatever the Warp Keeper brings back for us," I tell him.
He looks down at the bead , then back at me, and conjures a small smile. A wave of relief washes over me while it lasts. Then he turns away, and it fades. I guess that wasn't good enough. I pull at the edge of my sleeve and can do nothing but wait for Kirin to come back with drinks. I'm tired of dealing with this sober, and my flask has been empty for days. I'm so bored.
She hasn't even ordered the drinks yet. She's leaning on the bar chatting with a man with a long white braid.
"This lot look downright normal" I catch over the babble. "What's the catch? Do they explode? Are they man-eaters?"
"I bring normal guests here all the time! By the lights Biera, I introduced you to your wife!" She looks mad. Then she looks sad. "Give them a little grace though. The last thing they need after the day they've had is your sense of humor."
There’s a pressure on the back of my head, followed by a soft click . It sounds like the string of a crossbow locking into place. I’ve had a bolt held to my head before, it didn’t feel like this. I need to see what's behind me
I can’t. Kirin leaning on the bar and chatting. The view from the wall behind the fiddler across the way. The ceiling from the surface of a table, The room sliding from left to right from the door that's swinging shut. No matter how much I frantically blink and peer into the infinites around me I can’t get a good look at what’s being pointed at me.
I look over at Wallace without turning my head. There’s some kind of metal stick pressed to the back of his head, attached to a length of wood that extends out of my field of vision. His eyes are wide. His hand is frozen in front of him, the ring swinging back and forth from the cord looped over his hand. I don’t have time to find out. Wallace is looking at me with alarm.
If I reach for my sword I might not make it in time. I pull my hand a little further inside my sleeve. I can't get both of us at once. I'm only gonna get one shot at this. Better make it count.
I reach down to the release at the base of my palm, and let it go. A blade springs out of my bracer at the same time as I twist my shoulder out of place to fling it in Wallace's direction. He flinches, but I stay on target. The blade collides with the metal stick, knocking it away from his head. Whatever's pointed at mine presses harder. Before Wallace even finishes flinching to scramble up and out of his chair, I throw myself to the side, rolling off and coming up in a crouch with my short-sword drawn and pointed at whoever's decided to try sneaking up on us.
Not whoever. Whatever. I can't call what's in front of me a person. It has a face out of a nightmare. A nightmare I've had recently. Pallid skin, which darkens as it flows into mass of tentacles where the lower part of its face should be, underneath eyes like voids.
It moves to point its wands – too long to be wands. Staves? Why would you hold a staff like that? – at me, too slow to track me properly. I feint left to keep its aim away from Wallace and duck under its guard, coming up with my knife to its side. It tries to back away from me, which would have been smart if I was alone. Martin shoves the back of its boot, forcing it to lean towards me to keep its balance. I hold my sword back and down to hover below its chest. Its eyes are wide enough to show the whites surrounding the black holes where its irises should be.
Neither of us move for a moment, except for the tentacles, which twitch and writhe around each other like a nest of snakes. It blinks, and its eyes narrow again, showing only a hint of white. It turns its face away from me.
"I should have thought ye'd be a little more grateful to see me, seeing as how ye keep praying for me help." it says gruffly. I almost think it sounds disappointed.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I say as I put a little more pressure on the point where I'm hoping it has a femoral artery. The sound of the room around us fades away while I try to figure out what it's trying to do.
"Kit, you can put your sword away," comes Wallace's careful tone from behind me.
He sounds like he's trying to talk down a wild beast, but it's so good to hear his voice again. I look away from the monstrous stranger with its metal tool for the first time. He's reaching out towards me, palm held out, like he could do anything to stop me. I don't lower either blade. He trusts a lot of things I wouldn't
I feel one of the staves move against my arm and knock it away. All the tentacles pull back away from my knife. It holds the staff still in the air, distinctly not pointing it at either of us.
"I'm not here to run a rig on you, just wanted to test yer mettle," it says to me, before calling over my shoulder, "Can you call off yer guard dog?"
"Please?" Okay maybe I should. I need to stay on his good side.
I don't put my sword away. I don't trust this thing. But I don't stop it as it sheathes one of its staves on its back. We each take a half step back. It's not just a stick that it's holding, the metal part is hollow, and connected to some kind of mechanism near a thick handle at one end.
"Why are you here now?" asks Wallace. "What are you?" I ask immediately after him.
I slide my knife back into my bracer and lock the blade in, looking back and forth between the stranger and Wallace. I get a proper look at it, past the horrid face and the strange weapons. It's wearing a long coat of rough velvet, a pointed hat, and a belt with a curved sword hanging from the side. My stomach drops.
The stranger sheathes its other weapon with a huff and straightens its hat.
"Ye can call me Captain, Cap'n Garrick. I'm here because you need my help, and I've it on good authority that I could do with yours."
Fuck.
Wallace is golden again. "Well then, why don't you join us for a drink, and we can talk about what we can do for each other?" He gestures to an empty chair and sits back in his with his legs crossed.
"Good to see yer willing to pay attention when it comes a'callin. Course, I knew you would, wouldn'ave come all this way if you weren't." it says. It sits across from him. I should sit next to him, so I can intervene if it tries anything.
Wallace leans forward on the table, resting his chin on the back of his hand. "And how did you know, if you don't mind me asking?"