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Eight 5.2: A Simple Plan
🕑 Added 2024-10-27 16:25:08 +0000 UTCOur next step was obvious—getting a hold of Sulwa’s secret records. Fala, Yuki, and I debated between stealing the book ourselves or waiting to see if Dugo was successful and then taking it from her. The concern was she might fail, which would probably lead Sulwa to run, destroy the book, or both. A direct infiltration of his meridians would’ve been ideal, but we agreed with Skara and believed him to be hiding his silvered status.
The discussion lasted through the walk to the inn, during the bath I needed after spending time in Dugo’s head, and past the late breakfast of spicy bean soup with poached egg. Back in our room, we continued to hash out our options.
Fala sat on the bed cross-legged, while I paced the length of the room. The Deer God had emerged to make himself comfortable in the corner.
‘Let’s wait to see what plan this Dugo comes up with,’ Fala sent. ‘If it’s sound enough, we can afford to let her try.’
Maybe. I stopped to gaze out the window at young boy carrying a parcel across the plaza. Though, I suppose if Dugo fails and Sulwa bugs out as a result, we can follow to see where he leads us.
‘What if he destroys the book and holes up instead?’ Yuki asked.
We’ll have to intervene before that can happen, I replied.
‘Which means being close enough to do so,’ Fala observed.
I went to sit beside her on the bed. That’s right. We’ll have to be inside the warehouse, ready. All of them are terrible people, and none of them are innocent. We’ll take lethal action when the time comes.
She took my hand in hers. ‘Then we have a plan it seems.’
I nodded and gave the back of her wrist a kiss. We do.
After a moment’s observation, Fala wrinkled her nose at me. ‘You’re still uncomfortable from being among Dugo’s thoughts.’
I shrugged. The bath had helped, but not as much as I’d hoped. She’s ugly on the inside. The absolute worst kind of person.
Fala squeezed my hand, trusting my evaluation. ‘Then, we’ll end her for certain. In the meantime, let me teach you something new.”
She brought out a ball of water from the Hoarder’s Pocket, holding it delicately before transferring control to me. In my grip, the ball wobbled and was no longer a perfect sphere, yet it floated in the air as it should. I gestured to get it spinning, then sent it orbiting around us.
As Fala watched me practice, she said, “Every element excels at a handful of properties. For water, those strengths are nourishment, fluidity, erosion, and cleansing.”
I nodded, listening while also focusing on how the water felt to my eighth sense. I resisted the urge for it absorb all of my attention.
“In the early days after we first met, you asked me to teach you my spell to clean away stains, and I told you then…” Fala trailed off, wanting me to complete the sentence.
“That the ability was beyond my reach,” I replied.
“And so, for me to speak about it now must mean…”
“My reach has extended,” I answered, smiling.
“Of course it has, my Saint of Water. Your authority reaches deep into what water is, what it can do, and how it can be enhanced.”
The ball paused its flight, but Fala tapped my arm to remind me to keep it in motion. The aim was to get to a place where I didn’t have to concentrate for the water to do as I asked—where it responded to my needs without me thinking.
To make the practice more challenging, Fala nudged the ball out of its orbit every once in a while. I had to counteract her when it happened, while also focusing on her explanation.
“How might you enhance what water can do?” she asked. “Besides casting a spell.”
Supposedly, influence was the world responding to the will of those invested by the World Spirit with authority. It manifested in the many ways reality prioritized the silvered and dark, as well as the specific powers afforded them by their paths, talents, and soul marks.
Fala tapped my arm. The water ball had paused in its flight again. Instead of restarting its orbit, though, I brought it in front of me so that I could consider it in earnest.
Molecularly, water was simple—comprised of two hydrogen and one oxygen atoms—yet the substance was inextricably connected to life. One couldn’t exist without the other.
I’d never been a person who undervalued the importance of water. All you had to do was to see the effects of its lack to understand that lesson.
In the background, I noted the chatter from my friends and family. Thanks to Yuki, we were in constant communication. As I sank deeper and deeper into my thoughts, though, the voices faded. While the light traveled across the room, my eyes remained on the water in front of me.
###
I stretched to loosen the muscles grown stiff from sitting so long. The Deer God snored in the corner under the amber-hued, late-afternoon light streaming through the window, while my sense for Fala told me she’d gone downstairs to listen to the music provided by the inn.
The entertainers hadn’t been released from their militia duties, but they’d made sure to always have someone on stage during the day. From the emotions coming from my beloved, the song being played was quick and cheery
I let the water ball down into my hand to simply hold it. I’d been asked about how I might enhance what water could do. The answer was to lend it my authority, so that its influence was greater.
My authority moved within me, and the water became more real than before. All the strengths Fala had described were enhanced. If my preference was for the water to cleanse, then that was done through my influence too. An expression of my will later, the ball shimmered.
Letting the water pour over me, I felt the last remaining psychic ickiness from being inside Dugo’s head disappear. Downstairs, a surge of approval arose within Fala. I’d gotten the answer right.
On my phone, a notification dinged.
The Hydrodynamics skill has increased from 5 to 7.
Feeling satisfied, I pulled the water away from me and into a ball again. The influence inside was gone, with most of it flowing back to me and a small amount evaporating into the air.
###
Dinner that night was a hearty goat and dumpling stew, while on stage a pair of drummers gamely performed for their exhausted audience. Both the food and entertainment were free to the off-duty militia in attendance.
Elsewhere, Sulwa ate his dinner alone in his office. All his meals were taken there, and he only left it when his work required him to do so. Lately, Dugo had observed him sleeping on a cot in the corner.
She kept tabs on him, and we did the same for her. The matron had come up with a plan, and the groundwork for it would take place later in the evening. Then it’d kick off in earnest the next day. The lads had already been given their instructions.
Our own preparations were simple. After we filled up on stew and listened to the drummers finish their set, we left the Wholesome Ox to tour the work being done to clear debris and repair the town’s infrastructure.
As the night slipped past and the town quieted into slumber, Fala and I faded from sight, disappearing as we moved from one moon shadow to the next. Quietly, we pulled our gear from the Hoarder’s Pocket and armed ourselves. Then, like ghosts, we flitted toward Sulwa’s warehouse.
At the front doors, Fala inserted a key-sized chunk of granite into the lock and molded it to the necessary shape. At her command, the granite turned to unlock it for us. When the door still wouldn’t open, she dropped into the cobble stones under us to move beneath the door and lift the bar on the other side.
We eased the door closed behind us and relocked it. The interior was dark and smelled of hay. Owl’s Ears brought Sulwa’s soft snores to me from inside the office. We padded closer to check that lock, but it was magical. Fala’s trick with the granite wouldn’t work, nor could she merge with the stone. The walls and floor underneath had been enchanted against infiltration.
Beyond the rear doors, in the stable adjacent to the marshaling yard, Sulwa’s ox breathed her last breath. A cast of White-Tailed Senses later, I smelled the scent of her blood spilling.
Dugo had put her plan into action, so Fala and I found a spot in the rafters in which to hide. We’d wait until morning, and then things would begin in earnest.
###
The sun was barely up, slowly bringing the world into brightness. While Fala watched over Ollie/Eight’s body, our attention was focused on the extension of our consciousness inside Matron Dugo.
Her plan was simple, needing only three lads and a pair of metal claws. Sharp as knives they were, and her lads had used them before to make a necessary death appear like it’d been done by a beast.
All of Sulwa’s oxen had been commandeered by the militia with the exception of one, so there’d been no fuss from the herd when killing it the previous night and making it look like a creature had snuck in to do the deed.
She’d stood over the mostly-cold body and waited for when Sulwa was likely to be most immersed in his breakfast. The man hated to have his meals disturbed.
Dugo felt a jolt of nervousness, but strangled the emotion mercilessly. The silvered were people like everybody else. Poke them, unbalance them, threaten what they cared about, and they’d move like you wanted them to.
She took several steps back, then ran forward to throw herself at the dead ox—making sure to get her knees in the congealed blood and her hands on the body like she’d come upon the poor thing and couldn’t help herself. “Oh no!” she cried out and then, with a nod, sent the lad beside her running.
Dugo went through the motions of examining the ox, dabbing a bit of blood on her cheek in the process. Any moment now, Sulwa would come rushing over.
A tap from Fala let us know that the man had made his appearance, so we shifted our attention back to Ollie/Eight. A lad stood at an open office door below. Only Sulwa’s hand was visible at first—holding it open—but that was enough for us to use our talent camera.
Sulwasei the Miser (Human, Dawn)
Talents: Number Sense, Ordered, Fussy About the Details
The information felt wrong to our senses, so we peeled away the false words to reveal:
Sulwasei the Obscure Hand (Human, Silvered)
Talents: False Front, Questioner, Codebreaker, Low Profile, Influence Talks
The lad hurriedly explained that there’d been an attack overnight and that the ox had been killed. The news pulled Sulwa through the door, and we saw him holding a hard-boiled egg in his other hand. A napkin was draped over his left shoulder.
“Gods damn it,” he muttered before hurrying away.
The lad hung back to make sure the office door didn’t close before following after. At the other end of the warehouse, a couple of lads poked their heads up, and when the scene appeared clear, they made their way over.
After passing the information we’d acquired to Fala, we transferred our attention back to Dugo in time to see Sulwa rushing toward her and the dead ox.
The fool was already cursing his bad luck, and he tossed the hard-boiled egg in his hand aside as he leaned in. “How did this happen?” he yelled.
The lad that had gone to get him gave Dugo a knowing look—the office door had been left open.
“What else?” she yelled back at Sulwa. “Somewhat killed the poor thing in the middle of the night.”
“But how?” Sulwa demanded. “The land soldiers are pulling double shifts, so that nothing gets inside the walls.”
“Does it matter? We’re without an ox until the militia returns the rest back to us. Ye’ll have to plead our case to the reeve.”
“At least we’ll eat well tonight,” the lad said.
‘Oh, good boy,’ Dugo thought. That had been just the right level of stupid to be convincing.
Sulwa hardly gave the lad a glance. “As busy as the reeve is, that’ll take me all day.”
“It’s not like I can do the talking for us,” Dugo replied.
“No, of course not.” Sulwa gestured toward the dead ox. “So, what did this anyway?”
Dugo looked down at the wounds, so that he couldn’t meet her eyes. “Am I a hunter? How should I know? Somewhat with claws.”
“Hmm… if I’m to talk to the reeve, he’ll want more details than that. What did you see Matron Dugo?”
Sulwa’s voice had gone mild, raising the hackles along her neck. She’d done her best, but something had triggered the man’s suspicious nature. The lad nearby gulped, but he’d done it quiet-like, and Sulwa hadn’t seemed to notice.
All she could do now was to hold out and count on the lads sent to get the book. That’d be the only thing to save them.
As Dugo began to play out the lines she’d prepared for Sulwa’s questioning, Fala sent a message, ‘The men are approaching the office. They hurry more than they should.’
Our consciousness split, and I left Yuki to continue monitoring the situation in the marshalling yard. The lads down below were already passing through the office door. Not once had they glanced up. They both had talents suited to thievery, yet must not have expected to ever be the targets for robbery themselves.
Fala saw that I was back in my body, so she was free to sneak along the rafters to get a better view of the office’s interior. I followed after, every motion careful to keep the wood from creaking and dust from falling.
The lads worked together to quickly unpack a small rucksack. They placed a series of colored stones around the tile hiding the secret compartment. When the task was complete, one took out a magnifying glass to examine the tiles’ borders.
While he did that, the other left to stand outside the door. There, he’d be able to keep watch for trouble and avoid injury if a trap was sprung, which was the whole point sending two lads. If one fell, the other could finish the job.
She was a real piece of work, that Matron Dugo. The affection she felt for her lads didn’t touch at all the ruthlessness with which she used them. After her escape from Bashruuta, she planned to buy a few more boys and train them up as lads. The new ones would make up for any losses. She, and the others, would make sure they learned to fit in with the rest of the gang.
I saw sweat dripping from the lad’s face as he pried open the tile to reveal the secret compartment below. Then, a soft “Oh” escaped from his lips before he fell to the side with his eyes glazing over. His ghost detached and stared glumly down at his body.
Was it a needle, magic, or something else? I couldn’t tell from my position.
‘I didn’t see it either,’ Fala sent.
The still-living lad made a choking noise. For a moment, I thought it might be a sign of poison gas, but then his spirit colored with suppressed grief and I understood it to be emotion. Then his determination overwhelmed the grief, and he stepped into the office.
The lad walked around the secret compartment, eyeing it from all angles, before continuing the job left unfinished. He knelt opposite his dead friend, with his back toward me.
‘How is it outside?’ Fala asked.
‘It’s been question after question,’ Yuki replied. ‘Sulwa definitely suspects something, but he hasn’t made any threats yet. Dugo suspects it will happen soon. She thinks—’
Before they could finish their report, two things happened.
The first was that the lad in the office briefly held up the book before slumping and disturbing the stones arranged around the secret compartment.
At the same time, Sulwa jerked as if jabbed by a needle, whereupon he immediately smacked Dugo hard across the face, breaking her jaw. He disabled the lad next to him by caving in his chest with a punch. The sound of the bones snapping could be heard from my position inside.
Then Sulwa dashed toward his office. He barely spared a glance to make sure the area was clear before heading to the door. Only once he saw the bodies did he slow down. He gave a soft huffing laugh, then straightened his clothes, muttering, “Maybe it’s time, after all.”
Sulwa went to pull the book from the dead lad’s hands. Afterward, he reached into the compartment to retrieve a small pouch. That done, he walked back out of the office to meet an obsidian knife through the eye. Fala’s silvered weapon punched through the thin layer of bone protecting the brain to splatter it on the floor and walls behind him.
She’d been ready for him; her ambush had been immaculate.
As Sulwa’s body fell, his ghost remained standing. He blinked in surprise, apparently unsure of what had just happened. In his hands, the book was missing, as was the pouch. Both were important and necessary—that much was clear from the expression on his face. Yet both were also quickly disregarded when he seemed to hear a call from the west.
Sulwa turned to listen, then his spirit rushed away to answer it. I’d seen the same thing happen to two other high-level Maltran agents. It’d creeped me the hell out then, and it creeped me out now. Anything that interfered with the cycle of rebirth had to be seriously dodgy.
After a handful of beats, the body he left behind didn’t turn undead. The Maltran empire had apparently not graced Sulwa with extra cores. The tension within me ratcheted down a notch.
‘We ended up killing him today, after all.’ Fala sent.
I sighed softly. I just wish we’d been able to learn more from him beforehand.
‘Too risky,’ Fala replied. ‘The silvered can be slippery. We can count ourselves lucky he didn’t have a life-saving artifact or a means of escape.’
I shrugged. Yeah, we did the best we could, and if nothing else, we helped with cleaning up the town earlier than planned.
‘Then why do you look like you’ve eaten a bitter slug?’ Fala asked.
It happened again, I answered. The ghost went east.
Her brow furrowed. ‘If it worries you, then it worries me.’
All it is, is worry. For now, anyway. There’s nothing we can do about it until we learn more.
The two of us waited, then, to see if anything else happened. The pool of blood underneath Sulwa spread. A couple of crows outside got into an argument. A wasp buzzed past, ignorant of Fala’s and my presence.
After a handful of minutes, Yuki moved through me to update themselves on the situation. From them I also learned that Matron Dugo was attempting to flee by pulling herself toward the marshaling yard’s exit. She’d left the injured lad behind; he was writhing in pain and gasping for air.
‘What should we do with them?’ they asked.
My response was to drop down from the rafters and go outside. I cast an Anesthetic spell on the lad to ease his suffering, and then cut his throat. Reading my intent, Yuki snuffed out Matron Dugo’s life.
The other lads, if they were smart, would keep away from the warehouse. They’d run and never look back, because if I ever encountered them again, I’d also help them find their next lives.
Comments
Lena M. Lucente
Good chapter. Thank you. Keep up the good work.
frank schellingerhout
nice chapter thx for writing it
