At Large

by Andrew Seiple

  “Give me one good reason that I should let you live,” Zenobia choked out, and Chase couldn’t remember if those had been the exact words of the vision, but the rest of the scene matched up so the Oracle surrendered to her fate.

  “I’ll give you two,” Chase said, ignoring the blades inches from her neck. “And their names are Tabita and Pwner.”

  INT+1

  CHAPTER 21: BAD LADY, GOOD DOGE

  If looks could have killed, then Chase would have been dead many times over.

  Come to think of it, Chase thought giddily, there probably is a job out there that lets you kill with a look. Fortunately she doesn’t have it, since I’m still alive.

  The Camerlengo’s eyes hadn’t left her, but the older woman’s jaw was working up and down like she wanted to take a bite out of the halven in front of her. Finally, it shut with an audible snap of teeth coming together, and Zenobia made a sharp, slashing gesture with one gloved hand.

  “No, I don’t think so,” a gentle voice said from the back of the room. “Come join us at the fire and tell me about those two names you just dropped.”

  Zenobia flushed red, and her eyes flickered away from Chase. She shifted slightly so that her spectacles were mirroring the fire.

  The blaze held less heat than the Camerlengo’s gaze, and Chase let her shoulders sag in relief. “Thank you,” she said, but nobody spoke. The blades between her and the armchair did withdraw though, so she followed the path left open to her.

  For the first time since she had come to Arretzi, she was taking the path of least resistance. It was somewhat a relief, actually. The main part of her plan was done.

  To her surprise, the figure sitting in the armchair was not Maddalena Verde. It was another dog beastkin, this one a corgi-headed man wearing blue and green velvet. He was fat, and furry, and his tongue hung just a bit out of his mouth as the warm fire crackled away just five feet from his layers of robes. He held up a hand festooned with jeweled rings, and Chase took it, bowing. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t think I know who you are.”

  “You’re in the presence of Doge Fedelta himself, girl,” the Camerlengo’s voice snapped the silence like a whip meeting flesh.

  “It’s all right.” The beastkin waved a hand idly. “You are a visitor to my city after all, Chase Berrymore. How do you find it so far?”

  “Well, up until yesterday I would have said that it was full of criminals, hounded by rampaging monsters, and on the edge of chaos.”

  “And now?”

  “Now most of the criminals are dead, the monsters are smarter and less chaotic than they appear, and the edge of chaos is back above it as it merrily falls toward the gods only know what.”

  The doge slurped his tongue into his mouth. “A bit harsh. But not entirely untrue. Still, Arretzi has faced worse crises.”

  “Yes.” The Camerlengo spoke again. “And it has done so under management that is no longer here to cause such crises again.”

  “If the Baroness disapproves of the way I do things, she can come down and tell me so to my muzzle,” the Doge flipped his ears dismissively. “My priority is the city. My own career is less important and should she wish to replace me and find the support among the noble houses to do so, then I will gladly retire to my estate and tend my garden for my last few decades. I’ll rather enjoy it! It’ll be easier than keeping everyone happy, that’s for sure. Or safe, for that matter.” The Doge heaved a sigh. “Speaking of that... those two names you mentioned, Miss Berrymore, are definitely not safe names to drop.”

  “I wouldn’t if I didn’t have to. But they illustrate the seriousness of the matter.” Chase looked to the Camerlengo, caught those burning eyes again. “May I speak to him about players?”

  The woman paused. For a second she considered the question, shifting her glasses out of the firelight. “To a point,” she finally stated. “Doge, may I ask you to share what you know about them?”

  “I can...” the Doge opened his mouth, only to be interrupted as the Camerlengo kept talking.

  “Child, if you have additional information about their nature beyond what he has told you, you will keep it to yourself or you shall suffer for that. Do you understand? This secret was not meant to be yours. You are in enough trouble already, and the damage you would do by indiscriminately sharing everything would take lifetimes to undo.”

  Chase flushed. “I understand that! I may not have the full picture, but I’m not an idiot. That’s why I asked your permission in the first place—” Chase shut up midsentence. The Camerlengo had been baiting her; she was sure of it. I really, really need to work on my willpower, she thought.

  “Enough. Camerlengo Zenobia has told me quite a bit about you tonight, Miss Berrymore. But she was unaware that my agents had assembled a file on you before you showed up on our doorstep... so to speak.”

  Chase listened to both what he said and what he didn’t say. After a second, she thought she got the message. The Camerlengo had given a biased account, obviously, or one that was tailored to her own agenda. The Doge had watched Chase’s actions in Arretzi, though, and had noticed discrepancies. That was probably the reason he’d called off the guards... Chase spared a quick look behind her and found the shadows empty once more. Had they been illusions? Hard to say. She thought not, though, invisible bodyguards were a far more likely possibility.

  The Doge continued. “But let me acquiesce to Zenobia’s request and inform you of players. They are monsters akin to demons or old ones. Things from outside this world that wear bodies of flesh. But unlike such ‘dark’ creatures, the players are chaotic, disorganized, and lack a universal goal beyond the pursuit of their own individual pleasures. They have a method of rebuilding their bodies after death, although it is limited or painful in some fashion. And it is the agreement of every ruler in Arretzi that they are to be turned over to the Inquisition when they are found.”

  “The Inquisition?” Chase blinked. She had no idea what that was.

  “That is none of your affair,” The Camerlengo snapped. “Now, tell me everything you know about Pwner.”

  Chase hesitated and looked to the Doge. He was her only hope of salvation here. She wasn’t naive enough to consider him an ally, but he was certainly better disposed toward her than the Camerlengo.

  But he gave her an encouraging nod, and Chase resisted the urge to hug him. He was just so adorable.

  Then the Camerlengo’s words sunk in. “You don’t want to know about Tabita?”

  “After tonight she will not be a cause for concern.”

  “You really should ask me about her. You’re mistaken about her goals, here.”

  “Pwner first.”

  “Well, their fates are intertwined anyway.” Chase shrugged, sitting next to the hearth. “Our best conjecture is that Soluzioni Semplici hired him to avenge their fallen guildmate.”

  The Doge groaned. “Oh Vincente... I told you not to go off half-cocked.”

  “You knew about this?” The Camerlengo shot him a surprised glare.

  “I knew he’d do SOMETHING. Not THIS.”

  Chase blinked. They believed me, just like that?

  Then she chastised herself. They knew she’d be here. And they’d planned to interrogate her to some degree, obviously. Of course they’d set up magic and buffs and other things to catch any lies she might tell. “He’s the one that blew up the Rossi casino. Tabita challenged him when she caught sight of him sitting in the player area down there. He accepted her challenge, dropped a bomb, and teleported out. So I really hope Maddalena Verde has some anti-bomb magic going here, otherwise it could get messy. If it gets to that point.”

  The Doge and the Camerlengo shared an inscrutable look. “Hmmm... is there anything else?” The Doge asked, turning back to Chase.

  “Not as much as I’d like. He was clearly hunting the werewolves and sacrificed Enrico Rossi to do so. And the casino. But he wasn’t at the tower when the werewolves took down Don Sangue. Which means that he doesn’t have a
reliable way of finding them. And that’s a problem.”

  “You want Pwner to kill Tabita?” The Camerlengo sneered. “Foolish.”

  “I said nothing of the sort. But it’s a problem because anyone who knows Maddalena Verde was involved in the last werewolf hunt will recognize this party for the obvious trap it is. And I’m willing to believe that Pwner’s smart and tenacious enough to figure that out and come here to hunt his quarry. Am I wrong about that?”

  “You’re not wrong,” The Doge said, staring morosely into the fire. “This changes the plan.”

  “We can still go through with it,” Zenobia considered him. “If you have the strength.”

  “This isn’t a matter of my strength. It’s a matter of risk to my people! Arretzi has already bled enough from this matter!”

  They argued, and Chase took the opportunity to look around the study. It was tastefully decorated, windowless but the air seemed fresh despite the roaring fire. Magic, perhaps.

  The room was missing something. Chase narrowed her eyes and pursued that feeling in the back of her skull until she figured out what it was. And when the argument ceased, and uncomfortable silence reigned, she dared to speak up. “Is the lady of the house here? Maddalena Verde? What does she think about all this?”

  The Camerlengo and the Doge shared another look. The Doge shrugged. “I see no harm in it. Do you?”

  “At this juncture, no.” Zenobia considered Chase. “She’ll be under my governance from this point out, so you may as well tell her.”

  Oh, that boded. But Chase pushed the trickle of fear away for now. “Tell me what?”

  “Fifteen years is a long time, and Maddalena Verde wasn’t exactly a young person when she helped hunt down the werewolves. She died of her age a few days ago. Her heart, my own Inventor confirmed it.” The Doge looked down, ears drooping. “The family was about to send out death notices when Sonora Bianchi died. After we confirmed that the werewolves were wreaking vengeance, we had a talk with the family. They agreed that Maddalena would have wanted to play one last trick on the beasts, and we hatched this scheme.”

  “The beasts will find no target for their vengeance until we want them to do so.” The Camerlengo smiled and held up a green mask. “At the appointed time I shall disguise myself as Maddalena and greet the party. And once Tabita is within my blade’s reach, we shall act!”

  “And so will Pwner. But there’s a problem with that plan,” Chase said. “They’re not really after vengeance.”

  The fire snapped and crackled.

  “Explain yourself. Quickly,” Zenobia spoke.

  “They might want vengeance, but it’s a secondary goal. When Tabita died the first time, Don Coltello had her skinned. She wants her skin back. She thinks it’s the key to returning to her own world.”

  “What....” The Camerlengo breathed the word, dragging it out. “Inconceivable!” Then her hand came up, and she rubbed her chin. “Then again, that was before... dear gods. Agnes scourge me, she might be on to something there!” For the first time, Chase saw fear on the woman’s face. “Can she do this?” Zenobia asked, plainly.

  “I have no idea. She thinks it’s possible.” Chase shrugged.

  “And she’s also smart enough to recognize that this is a trap. And if vengeance isn’t her goal, then she won’t try for you when you’re out there in disguise.” The Doge pinched the upper part of his muzzle with two fingers, massaging it.

  “She absolutely must not be allowed to do this,” The Camerlengo said. “Ah, it makes sense now! She wasn’t just killing the members of the hunting party, that was the cover. She was sending her people in looking for it. She didn’t know who had the blasted thing!”

  Chase remembered how the werewolf Alpha had sat there, looking over the room during his confrontation with Don Sangue. Yup. That’s why he came in and risked a face to face. They didn’t want to blow up the tower if the skin was still in there.

  The Camerlengo continued. “Where is this skin now? It must be destroyed.”

  “I don’t know where the skin is,” Chase shrugged. “But they think it could be here. Which is why I’ve set my plan in motion.”

  The Camerlengo closed her eyes. “I’m going to hate this.”

  “What is your plan?” The Doge asked, gently.

  “This is a big grown up party,” Chase said. “I know how those go at home. There’s strong drink and dancing and music, and people sneak off into the shadows and come back all sweaty. It’s what happens, and you have to turn a blind eye. Is that how this goes here?”

  “You’re not too far off,” The Doge smiled.

  “Right now my allies are pretending to do that, but what they’re actually doing is looking for good places to stash the fake skins that I bought before I came here. All we need is for the werewolves to find one, just one, and that’s when THIS will come into play.” Chase rummaged in her pockets and pulled out a compass. The needle quivered, throwing reflections against its glass case in the firelight, as it danced and swept around, over and over again.

  “Simple magic,” the Camerlengo said, squinting at it. “A tracking enchantment... ah, you’ve tied it to the false skins.”

  “Are you sure that will convince her?” The Doge asked. “How do you even know what her skin would look like?”

  “I’ve seen her as a werewolf. It’s not perfect, but it’s been fifteen years, and none of the skins are intact. Hopefully it works.” Chase sighed. “Honestly that’s the weakest part of the plan. She might recognize whichever skin she gets as a fake. But my divinations all seem to confirm that this plan has the best possibility of success.”

  Well, it has a possibility of success, she thought to herself. Chase remembered the multiple visions that showed the outcome of her other ideas. Most of those ended up with her being ripped to shreds by werewolves, in gory detail.

  “So they take a skin and return to whatever lair they’re using. Then you would use the compass to track them there.” The Camerlengo plucked it from her fingers, and Chase didn’t fight the grab. “And then what, girl?”

  “Then I was either going to find Pwner, point him at them or find someone else who could handle things. After contacting the guard so they could clean up whoever was left over in their weakened state.”

  “You’re fond of that maneuver,” Zenobia glared at her.

  “It worked.” Chase shrugged. “My friends and family got out alive, and you sorted out your differences. Win-win, as far as I’m concerned.”

  She never saw the blow that exploded on her chin and sent her sprawling. She only saw stars, and the red ‘53’ rising upward. And the pain in her tongue, where her teeth had gouged out flesh.

  “Your crime shall not be forgotten,” Zenobia hissed. “Remember your guilt and know that you shall pay for it. Repentance is good for the soul, and I shall show you Agnes’ Mercy until you walk the righteous path once more!”

  “Zenobia!” The Doge stood. “That was uncalled for! Alfonse, would you?”

  “Greater Healing,” one of the shadowy figures spoke, and instantly the pain left Chase. She stood, tasting blood in her mouth, feeling her cut tongue knit together.

  “I did not come here lightly, priestess,” Chase said, staring at Zenobia. “I foresaw this. Hoon granted me this sight. He is willing to overlook our differences to accomplish our mutual goals. Is Agnes so petty she cannot do the same?”

  “The grace of the master is unmarred by the flaws of the servant;” the Camerlengo’s eyes were slits behind her spectacles. “There is no gain without sacrifice, and there is no sacrifice without pain. But your own methods, as distasteful as they are, seem acceptable in this matter. Tell me more of your plan.”

  “You’re the first of three parties I needed to contact tonight.” ’Needed’ was a strong word, but the visions and cards seemed to agree that the more factions she got to, the better the odds were. “That performance in the atrium? That was to give Tabita the notion that I was a rogue third party and could be de
alt with in a friendly fashion... or at the very least, bargained with. That and a few other things should let me talk to them without getting murdered horribly. I will be able to convince them that the fake skin has been cursed, and they’ll need to go to a place of my choosing to undo the curse.”

  “And the third party?” The Doge asked.

  “Pwner. I need to give him the compass.”

  The Camerlengo considered, then shook her head. “No.”

  “I have no other way to guarantee that he’ll get to them!” Chase protested. “And we’ll need a player’s power to counter another player.”

  “We will not. You have me.” The Camerlengo smiled. “And I am not alone.”

  “It’s better this way, I think,” the Doge nodded. “Let Zenobia keep the compass; you have no way to get it back from her, anyway. In return, we’ll hold off on our plans. You can try to make contact with the werewolves and sell them on your con game. Leave Pwner out of this entirely. By all accounts, dealing with him is like playing with fire. Nobody gets out of that unburned.”

  “And one more thing,” Zenobia sneered. Chase barely had time to twitch, before the woman’s gloved hands whipped out and pulled the fox stole smoothly from her neck. “I’ll be keeping your little friend as collateral.”

  “No!” Chase shouted. “You leave Renny be!” She lunged for the Camerlengo, but the taller woman easily held her back, laughing.

  The halven girl raged, letting the sorrow and stress and frustration of the last few days out, ranting and raving her hate at Zenobia. Eventually the older woman’s face settled into a mask of boredom, and she slid out a knife, holding it to the stuffed throat of the stole. “You now have incentive to see your plan through. I suggest that you get to it, child.”

  Chase stepped back, sagging, letting tears run from her eyes. She’d jabbed them with her own fingers during the fight to get real tears, and oh, did they ache. But she focused through the blur at the Doge. “You can’t let her do this!”