Well Done

by Andrew Seiple

Speranza’s Rejuvenating song has healed you for 30 points!

  “I need to see where we’re going!” the Smuggler shouted.

  A strange voice rang out from shore. “Over here!”

  “Renny, can you shift the air bubble or whatever you’re doing?” Chase looked to her fox friend.

  “Yes!” Renny brought his paws together, and the steam closed in to either side of them... but the clear space in front stretched out, illuminating the rocky space where the bank met the bridge...

  ...and a black-clad figure standing underneath it.

  Black leather gleamed over tawny tan and black fur in the firelight, and for a second Chase thought Cagna had found them. But no, the ears were wrong, larger and pointier. And the figure had actual black hair, and a lashing, long tail. She was feline, not canine, and Chase had seen her before, somewhere. But that didn’t matter because she was twirling a rope, aiming carefully. “Catch!”

  A tremendous splash to the side, and Chase screamed as boiling water sprayed across the skiff.

  You have taken 27 points of steam damage!

  One of the slabs up above had given way, she realized through the pain. “I dropped the pole!” the Smuggler yelled.

  “Catch the rope!” Speranza said in a sing-song voice, keeping her hands moving on the guitar.

  Speranza has healed you for 30 points!

  “What?” The Smuggler looked up, just as the catgirl released the rope.

  I have to do it! Chase realized.

  Before she could think twice, before she could hesitate, she scrambled up the Smuggler’s back like one of the monkeys she’d inherited from Thomasi, stood on his shoulders as he froze, surprised, and snagged the rope from the air as molten metal rain poured down from above.

  DEX+1

  The rain intensified, and Chase gasped in pain as a sizzle rose behind her and her back ached with sudden pain.

  You have taken 11 points of fire damage!

  She scrambled down off the Smuggler’s shoulders as he bellowed, writhing in the fire, catching alight. Before she could call a warning he dove in the river...

  ...the boiling, boiling river.

  She watched, helpless, as red numbers burst up, then stopped. He was gone, just like that.

  “Tie it off!” The catgirl shouted. “Hurry! It’s drifting!”

  Chase ground her teeth as her skin sizzled.

  Speranza has healed you for 30 points!

  You have taken 18 points of fire damage!

  You have been afflicted with the burning condition!

  She was definitely on fire now, and it was so hard to concentrate, so hard not to follow the smuggler...

  ...but she managed.

  WILL+1

  She knew what would happen.

  WIS+1

  The boat WAS drifting, drifting at the mercy of the current, moving farther from shore. But Chase had strength most halvens would never see in their lifetimes, and she wrapped the rope around the gunwale, pulling it taut and knotting it even as it tried to rip from her blistered and charred hands. Pain as the rope pulled against them, then blood, soaking into the fibers of the rope, but she concentrated on it and then Renny was there, lending his own meager strength.

  It was enough.

  “Tightrope Time!” the catgirl called, and with a hop she was up on the rope, balancing without any visible effort.

  And Chase remembered where she had seen her. “You! You’re one of the Acrocats!”

  The aerial troop had been at Arretzi, been performing while she was trying to navigate her way through the underworld and deal with the werewolves plaguing the city.

  What the hells is she doing here?

  The Acrocat charged down the rope, moving with grace that Chase knew she could never match, with an agility that had to be well over two hundred and counting, and reached the skiff in less than a second. “Chase Berrymore and Renny?” The catgirl said, swaying this way and that, literally dodging the falling drops of metal.

  “Yes!” Chase screamed, thoroughly NOT dodging any of the drops. At all. “Lesser Healing!” Chase said, trying to pat herself out.

  “Great!” The catgirl smiled, showing really, really sharp teeth. “Lootbag, in you go.”

  “Wait, what—”

  Nimble fingers seized her, the catgirl snapped open a large bag with a money symbol on it, and before Chase could blink she’d been tossed into the sack.

  She gasped as she landed on a cloth floor, stuck inside a tentlike structure about the size of a small shack. Looking around wildly, she couldn’t see an exit.

  With a yelp, Renny appeared from midair and fell to the floor. He was smoking, and Chase smelled it...

  ...right before realizing she was still on fire.

  You have taken 31 points of fire damage!

  “Ow ow ow ow ow!” She got her jar open, jabbed a hand on, and yelled “Transfer Condition!”

  The jar burst into flames as the earthworms within burned, and she dropped it, shook her fingers. She patted Renny out while she chanted a few more Lesser Healings, feeling her sanity slip from her with every spell.

  “Oh my gods,” Renny said, sitting up. “That was really confusing. What happened?”

  “We almost died. Give me... give me a second,” Chase said, feeling the adrenaline rip through her. This was worse. This was worse than crawling through a cluttered basement and trying to dodge zombie clowns.

  This had been something she had absolutely no control over coming damned close to ending her and barely failing.

  But at the end of it all it had failed. And she was a halven, so she got over it in a matter of minutes and sat on the ground, sourly.

  Then the rush hit, and she gasped with relief.

  You are now a level 17 Oracle!

  CHA+3

  LUCK+3

  WIS+3

  Active divergence detected and canceled.

  Foresight is now accessible once more.

  The words meant that they were out of danger. That particular danger, at least. And with refreshed energy and greater wisdom came clarity.

  “We got kidnapped,” Chase said, scowling. We’re in... I think it’s a Burglar’s trick, this loot bag thing. Something like a Merchant’s pack. I didn’t know it could hold people, though.”

  “Speranza’s not here.” Renny looked around. “Maybe she wouldn’t fit?”

  “Or maybe she’s not the target. We are.” Chase rubbed her chin. “There are two possibilities here that I can see.”

  “I’m listening.” Renny said, pulling out a needle and thread and starting to sew patches over his flame-scorched plush hide.

  “Hey, can you check my clothing after you’re done with yourself? Please?” Chase said, studying her charred skirt. “But anyway, the first possibility is that Cagna is hiding somewhere around here. She couldn’t make it, and she sent catlady to pick us up.”

  Renny considered it. “That doesn’t sound likely.”

  “No. If Cagna had another beastkin friend down here she would have mentioned it earlier. But... there’s the chance. And the reason Speranza’s not in here is because she’s too big for the sack.” Chase sighed. “The other possibility is far more likely. It’s the possibility that someone caught Cagna and she spilled what she knew.”

  “I don’t see how! I’m pretty sure that’s against her code. I think?”

  “I don’t know her code exactly. But anyone can break under... torture...” Chase said, staring past Renny.

  It was a horrible possibility, and she really hoped that hadn’t happened.

  She swallowed, then coughed up black gunk, spat into a handkerchief that had somehow managed to get through uncharred. “Either way I don’t see a way out of here. And I don’t want to risk knocking myself out for a long time with a vision. So... I hate to say it, but I think we’re going to have to sit here and wait and see what happens.”

  Renny thought it over. Then he made his knife appear from somewhere, and sawed at the floor. It gave, revea
ling more cloth below.

  “I think you’re right,” he said, poking at it. “This lower layer is tougher. And there’s no telling what will happen if I keep cutting. Well, let me see what I can do about fixing your clothing, anyway.”

  The poncho was a total loss, but the bits of it that he could salvage made enough to patch the rest.

  He was just finishing up and putting away his sewing kit when light spilled into the bag, and a hand reached in, fumbling around.

  It was NOT a catgirl’s hand.

  It was wearing a thick leather glove, and looked like it had a very beefy arm behind it.

  “Um...” Renny said, backing up.

  “Around my neck, quickly!” Chase said. Renny dove and glomped her, circling around the back of her neck and going limp. It wasn’t the first time he’d mimicked a stole.

  The hand grew larger or the bag grew smaller, it was hard to tell. Chase bit her lip.

  When in doubt, buff up. “Double Down, Silver Tongue.”

  She was taking a risk by experimenting with the Gambler skill... but the situation was out of her control anyway.

  Then the hand found her, grabbing her leg and pulling, and she stumbled...

  ...and fell onto cold tiles, as a muscular, heavily-armored man straightened up above her.

  This wasn’t the bridge.

  This was a hall.

  And around her stood a circle of armored guards, spears out, leveled inches from her, quivering and ready to run her through at the slightest provocation.

  Weighing her options, glancing from face to face, Chase made her decision in a heartbeat.

  And she burst into tears, crying for all she was worth.

  CHAPTER 15: A GOOD KNIGHT

  Chase had learned many things, during the month or so that she had been following the chaos and danger that was an adventurer’s life.

  One was that no matter how many levels she gained or how skilled and powerful she got, she was still a halven. And most humans thought halvens to be weak and peaceful and honest, humble and lazy and comfort-loving.

  The second thing she had learned was that when people underestimated you, they tended to make mistakes, leave openings, and otherwise render themselves vulnerable to her methods of manipulation.

  There were more things, but right now they really didn’t matter. What did matter was that through the cracks between her fingers she could see the guards looking at each other with surprise and doubt. A few looked back to her with sympathy, more and more as she bawled, getting as loud as she could without being too histrionic. There was a fine line between adorable and guilt-inducing and ugly crying, and she wanted to stay firmly on the side of the line that got those spears away from her face.

  And after a dozen seconds, the most-armored man there had enough. “Oh, for the love’a the gods! Down spears. Down spears, Archers relax, don’t do nothing unless she turns into a dragon or something. You, girl...” he knelt, putting his gloved hand on her shoulder. “Hey, hey, calm down, eh? Calm down. No one’s going to hurt you.”

  “I was so scared!” Chase squealed. She hugged him.

  The man snorted, then rubbed her head. “Shush, shush. Hush, it’s fine, it’s a fine.”

  A few of the men laughed and muttered, and she felt the tension easing.

  “You okay there kiddo?” A familiar voice called. The catgirl!

  Chase shot a look at her, found her in chains between four other guards, several spears not far from her, either.

  “I’m... fine. Thanks for rescuing me,” she sniffled, trying to shut the tears off. The problem with high charisma and low willpower was that she had made herself sad, just by pretending. “Give me... give me a minute...”

  “Okay,” the guard commander said, releasing her and rising. “You get a five minutes or so. Then Sir Barriano wants to see you. Be good, and you got nothing to fear, eh?”

  “I’ll be good,” Chase promised, meeting the Acrocat’s eyes. “Cagna say the same?”

  The catgirl’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “Nothing to worry about if you behave, yeah,” she said, then cried out in pain as one of the guards grabbed her ear.

  “No talking! We told you before! You don’t get to talk to the halven!”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Chase put her hands to her mouth. “I didn’t mean to get you in trouble! I feel so bad about that!”

  Your Silver Tongue skill is now level 33!

  The ramifications of the guard’s statement were troublesome. They didn’t want the cat Burglar talking to her. Why? What did they know?

  One step at a time.

  The guards helped her up and sat her in chair, got her some tea to drink and a blanket to wrap around her as she shivered, and Chase took the opportunity to study the hall while she was here.

  It was huge, high-ceilinged with an archway supported by purple-painted pillars. Stained-glass windows lined the two walls leading up to the archway, and engravings and paintings and icons studded the walls, showing mighty engines of conquest, ancient gnomish steam tanks and legions of short, plumed-helmeted warriors fighting fantastical beasts and conquering distant lands. Magical runes glowed among the artwork, flaring from gold to crimson and back again. More pillars traced the way from the arch, up an aisle, past some pews, and to a golden altar adorned with golden spears and sheaves of grain and cogs.

  The guards around the catgirl jerked the chains and pulled her from the room, out a door behind what looked to be an altar. It shut behind them with a heavy thump.

  Chase wanted to ask where this place was. But that might tip them off that she wasn’t a local. She didn’t know what they knew, and didn’t want to give them anything that might be turned against her. So she sat silent, sniffling, drinking her tea and waiting to see what came.

  Through a few of the broken glass windows Chase heard shouts in the distance. Red light ebbed and faded against the glass, showing that the fire still burned to the... east? Maybe. She wasn’t sure which way was which, not after that trip.

  This is the second time that someone’s bagged me into a sack like an unruly goose. I’m going to have to do something to discourage that in the future, she mused.

  After a few minutes, the door opened again and a guard beckoned. “He’s ready for the kid.”

  “Come on then, little one,” the commander said, offering his hand.

  Chase swallowed her pride and took it, letting him lead her across the room. It was better than being at sword point and she wasn’t bound in chains, so that was something at least.

  They led her through stone halls, past paintings that made her gasp at their beauty, past works of art that she would have stopped and admired if she hadn’t been, well, kidnapped and in danger at the minute.

  “I know, right?” the commander said with pride. “Looting started, Sir Barriano seized the Basilica and kept it safe. Nothin’ stolen, just a few a windows broken. Gnome’s history is in good hands, yeah?”

  “Yeah,” Chase agreed, staring for a long moment at a pair of huge, slightly inverted golden discs that were carved around the edges with pictures of people doing... things. The discs were a bit too old and worn to make out much detail, but what they did portray made her ears hot under her scarf.

  “Those are the last remnants of the goddess Cymbal,” a voice said behind her, and Chase jumped.

  The commander straightened to attention, taking his hand off Chase and thumping his chest in salute. “Sir Barriano!”

  “At ease.”

  Chase turned, staring up.

  Not as far up as she imagined. The voice was oddly deep for what was a comparatively short human. He was built like a dwarf, stocky and thick with a bald head and a neatly-trimmed brown beard.

  And he was smoking, the thick leathers covering him showing charred patches and holes and additional layers below. Not as thick as he looked then, just really, really well armored.

  “Good evening,” he told her, staring with an intensity that contrasted the politeness
of his tone. “Might I make the inquiry of your name, young lady?”

  “I’m Chase,” she said, caught by his eyes. He had to have serious charisma... Knights generally did, from what she’d heard. And she doubted that was his only job.

  He nodded. “Are you in league with the dragon, Chase? Are you helping his cause?”

  “What? No!”

  He seemed to relax, just a bit. “Well, that’s a relief. In that case you’ll be happy to know that we saved the bridge. It took my earth Elementalists a lot of work to keep it together while the smiths and masons did their job, but the dragon failed.”

  “I am relieved, but I’m worried about my friend. We were on a boat under the bridge when the catgirl grabbed me, and I don’t know if she made it.”

  “And what’s the name of your friend?”

  “Speranza. She’s a short, blonde human. Maybe your height, maybe a bit taller... sorry. I’m not trying to imply you’re short.”

  “Ah.” Sir Barriano nodded, but his eyes flicked away, just for a second. They were harder when he met her gaze again. “I shall inform my men to ask around for her. Rest assured you shall be the first to know if she turns up. However, I have further questions for you.”

  “Of course,” Chase said, glancing away from those hard eyes, taking the chance to look at the golden discs again.

  The Knight nodded. “Cymbal was a goddess once. Subjugated, destroyed long before the godswar. She put her might against Gnome, took up her instruments and dealt thunderclaps of force and music against the iron legions.” He moved up beside her, and Chase braced herself for a hand on the head or shoulder, or something of the sort. But he didn’t touch her, and she relaxed. Just a bit.

  “In those days, gods and goddesses could take the field. So, Gnome fed her legions, choked her with blood and flesh, until her discs were too coated with gore to sound properly. Then mighty Roamer and Reamer, the twin wolves of Gnome, took the field against her and ended her existence with her avatar. Her bones lie beneath this basilica, and it is guarded night and day against fools and Necromancers and other scum.”

  She looked up then, to find his face darkened and eyes blazing, and was very glad she wasn’t the object of his ire.