“And what would Gam Wheadle say if she saw you like this, Tollen?”
CHA+1
Chase’s voice cracked like a whip, and the Scout rocked backward as if he’d been struck. Gam Wheadle had been a terror, as halven matriarchs go, and the memory seemed to shock him out of whatever raw urges his new state seemed to be troubling him with.
“Follow me!” he gasped out and ran down the hall, almost loping as he went.
Chase pursued him, mind working furiously. There were four competing plans in motion here, tonight. The Doge and the Camerlengo were one, and she’d defused that: the information she’d given them had rendered it useless. There was Pwner’s plan, whatever it was, and she had to leave it to Thomasi. Chase didn’t really have a choice there, so she had to hope that he could pull out a win. There was her plan, and it had mostly gone off... but it was the werewolf plan that she had to deal with now.
I have to get them to dance to my tune, or this is all for naught, Chase knew. I have to get them to where they need to be. To a place where they think they hold all the cards.
“Here,” Tollen snarled, pounding a door with force belying his halven frame. “Go... in.”
Chase looked at him, and his eyes flashed yellow. He was still now, not trembling anymore. And the sense of danger from him rose like a stench, filled the corridor, told her it was far, far too late to run.
Without taking her eyes from his she moved up to the door, turned to the side, and opened it. Then with a smooth, unhurried motion she backed through the door and shut it behind her.
“Hello, Chase,” Tabita said from behind her.
“Hi!” Chase forced her face into a smile, before she turned around. “How can I serve you, Miss... Tabita...”
Blood spattered the study.
Blood coated the books lining the shelves.
Blood dripped from the desk, where Giuseppe Coltello’s head sat, a horrified expression frozen forever on his dead face.
And blood stained the mouth of the dwarven woman who sat naked in the chair behind the desk, casually taking bites out of a human heart. Completely at ease, ivory skin flawless under the slick red juices that coated it, hair primly back in a braided ponytail, kept out of the mess by design beforehand.
“Oh,” Chase said, realizing just how much she’d dove in, gone in over her head, overinflated her chances of victory here. She’d screwed up, she’d screwed up bad, and here there were monsters.
“Oh,” the werewolf Alpha growled in agreement, and she turned to the side to see him in full furry form... tall, thin, black, and wearing only a sword belt with a rapier. “Little girl, you have one chance to get out of this room alive. Will you help us?”
Chase took a breath, gagged on the smell of blood and offal. To the side she saw a pair of pointy shoes poking out from under a screen, and blood slowly spreading in a widening puddle. Giuseppe was dead, the Coltello line gone for good.
“I’ll help you,” Chase said, and when she jerked her attention back to the Alpha he was in front of her, her head right at the level of... Oh. Oh, he definitely should have worn pants. But she was far too scared to blush, and she forced her gaze higher still, staring up at the monster’s muzzle.
“Good,” Tabita said, finishing her meal with a snap of flawless teeth. “Mercutio, take her. We can discuss matters on the road.”
“Wait, hold on!” Chase squeaked. She wasn’t done here! There was too much to do here, and the plan required getting back to her allies, and...
...and then the bag went over her head, as her plan fell to pieces.
CHAPTER 23: NO PLAN SURVIVES FUR’S CONTACT
Well, at least they haven’t killed me yet, Chase thought to herself as the sack shuddered and bounced. They were moving her again. They had been at this a while, a long while, and she had the bruises to prove that they’d been none too gentle about it.
If it had been a cage or a box she would have tried to escape. You knew where you stood with one of those. Something solid like that was an admission that they weren’t watching you all the time, that your captors expected shenanigans, and wanted to slow you down because those shenanigans might work.
But a sack was a different sort of statement. A sack offered the prisoner no real barrier... and no real protection.
And when the world outside of the sack was guaranteed to be filled full of angry werewolves, well...
Chase didn’t need Foresight to see how an escape attempt would go.
One last bout of self-pity rocked her, and she cried a bit as she jounced and bounced in the sack, keeping her sobs muffled. Chase knew she had fallen prey to hubris. She’d gone in expecting the wards and magical guardians of the Verde mansion to prevent bloodshed and at least slow down the werewolves, but clearly the wards hadn’t presented any real obstacle. She had managed to derail what she thought was the Verde trap, but the Verde trap had been entirely different than she expected, and at best the final outcome had been a draw.
But the worst crime, the worst crime of all was that she had thought that she could handle the werewolves with nothing but words and chutzpah. And if they had been people, then she might have had a chance.
They weren’t. They were only people half the time. The other half of the time they were monsters, and when you were up against monsters words didn’t cut it.
The second worst crime was that she had gone in there with a plan and expected it to work even though everyone else involved had their own plan going.
Why?
Why should she be special? Why should her plan get some sort of carte blanche to succeed even though it was one among the many? Sure, she was lucky, but that was only one attribute out of ten. And at no time had she ever been fully in control of all the variables or been able to influence everyone she needed to influence to make sure things fell out her way.
This wasn’t Bothernot, where she could clearly figure out the impact to everyone her machinations and gossip would impact. This wasn’t her home town... which she saw now, was easy compared to dealing with a city full of factions and monsters and nobles. No wonder most halvens shunned adventure and things like this! You went in with your best toe forward, and then you ended up in a werewolf sack! Nobody should have to end up in a werewolf sack. That sort of thing didn’t happen to reasonable halvens.
The thought made her giggle, and she tried not to. The stuffy air was making her loopy.
Would they mind if she poked a hole in the sack? She shrugged, slid out a playing card, and whispered, “Foresight.”
She couldn’t see too well, but she saw a shadowy hole appear and let in a bit of light. Nothing happened for the other eight seconds, so Chase let her ghost self fade away and followed through with the slice.
Your Foresight skill is now level 39!
Instantly, cool air rushed into the sack. Chase pushed her nose against the hole and breathed deep...
...and she could smell none of the odors of the city around her.
This was the scent of the field, of fall leaves and dead grass. It was cold, and it contrasted with the warmth of whoever’s back the sack was currently slung over. It also put paid to her budding headache, and let her think a bit more clearly.
Halven temperament asserted itself once that last obstacle was gone. Self-pity did no good to help the situation, so now what was she going to do about it?
Fighting was right out. Without allies, the best she could do was throw a couple of silver cards and then die. Even with her Oracle tricks, they’d only delay the inevitable.
Sneaking away? That had more merit. But there were problems with that notion. The first being that Chase couldn’t see in the dark, and her captors probably wouldn’t be so hindered. She put her eye to the hole, and peered out for a long moment... nope, dark as heck. Occasionally she got a flash of moonlight from above as the sack jounced up on her bearer’s shoulder, but most of the time it was hidden by tree branches that closed down like the claws of great black birds seizing their prey.
Also even though she wasn’t a slouch at sneaking, she had no real way to hide her scent and she’d be up against creatures that were built for hunting down fleeing prey. No, this would be giving them an advantage, and right now she couldn’t afford to do that.
Talking. It would have to be talking, and fortunately she was very good at it. But would they listen? That was the problem.
Then again...
They thought they’d won, hadn’t they? Maybe? If they had found one of the skins, then they would think they’d done what they set out to do. They had to have found a skin... she couldn’t imagine a reason they would have left the party otherwise.
And there, in the darkness of the sack, her captor’s back hot against her own through the layer of canvas and being carried off to gods knew where, Chase took stock of her advantages and prepared for a battle of words. Because if words failed her, she was pretty much screwed.
When the long run finally stopped, when the night air was still again, save for panting and the occasional muttered growl, they finally dumped her out of the sack.
She wasn’t sure what they were expecting.
What they got was a small figure, picking herself up off the ground and dusting herself off, completely ignoring the ring of dark shapes around her. With a final sigh, she pulled out a headscarf and snapped it open, causing the ring to draw tighter, and a few growls of warning to echo forth. But she ignored that too and calmly fastened the scarf over her black locks, tying it under her chin.
Finally one of the werewolves coughed, and cleared his throat.
She looked up at him, squinting in the moonlight. “Yes?”
“I rather expected you to be sobbing, at this point,” said the Alpha.
“Oh, I did all that in the bag.” She turned around, taking in the scene. The familiar shapes of the carved logs, the dark mouth of the cave, the faint smell of rot... all those things told her they had returned to the dungeon that she had found three short days ago. Back where it all started, even if I didn’t know it had begun at that point.
And oh, didn’t that raise questions? Thomasi, surely, had known Tabita was a werewolf. How else would he have recognized the skin? Why else had he taken it? Was it truly coincidence that they had both come this way? Chase thought not. He’s been playing his own game. And... I don’t think I should mention him to Tabita and her pack. That’s a card I can play later, if I have to.
“Well, if you’re not going to sob and wail that’s a relief, I suppose.” The Alpha loped over to her and squatted down on his haunches. His breath smelled of blood and dog, as he brought his face to hers, long muzzle nearly touching her chest. She flinched back, despite herself, and he seemed satisfied by that. “Though I wonder how much of this is an act, and how much is true bravery.”
“Most of it’s logic,” Chase said, not daring to look away. “If you wanted me dead, I’d be dead. So you want me for something. And after that fortuna reading, I have some vague idea why... but not any specifics. Maybe you can tell me what you want from me? I’d love to do it for you then go away, far far away from here. Alive and intact. Maybe with my pockets full of gold?”
She wasn’t sure which werewolf started laughing first, but it caught on fast, and soon everyone but the Alpha was literally howling.
As the sound echoed from the hills, he stood up and gave a shake, twitching and shuddering and shrinking...
...until the lean, black-haired man she’d seen at Don Sangue’s final feast was standing in the monster’s place. He was clothed, thankfully and took a second to adjust his sword belt.
“Did you have that on you when you were... fuzzier?” Chase asked, confused.
“It’s complicated. Basically it’s still there, but it looks like it isn’t. One of the perks of my condition.”
Condition? Chase filed that away for later usage. But the Alpha was continuing. “Anyway... my name is Mercutio. If it’s gold you want we can do that. That’s meaningless to us, for the most part.”
The ring of werewolves around them shuffled, and a few of them muttered. He shot a glare back over his shoulder. “For the most part!” he reiterated. “You can always get more gold.”
“But you can’t always get home,” Tabita’s voice rang over the clearing, and Chase turned to see the squat werewolf sitting on a ledge up above the dungeon, peering out at the forest beyond. “I want to go home, girl. And I think maybe you can help me with that.”
“I... you’re her, aren’t you? Tabita?”
Chase knew very well who she was, but she put uncertainty in her voice anyway. She worked better when people underestimated her.
“I am. You’re a clever one, but really you’re coming in late in this sordid little play. Used as a pawn by those who care nothing for you.” Tabita hopped off the ledge, landed with a meaty THUD and a casual ease that displayed a strength that made Chase shudder. Even the Muscle Wizaard would be hard-pressed to match that sort of brute strength, she thought.
“Don Coltello basically threatened me with the choice of death or helping him.” Chase shrugged. “Now he’s gone.”
“And yet you told Don Sangue we were enemies.” The Alpha paced, circling her. She turned as best she could, without putting her back to Tabita.
“An angry undead whatever-he-was right in front of me, about to maul us? Yeah you better believe I told him that!” Chase laughed. “I would have told him the moon was made out of cheese if it got us out of there alive!”
“Enough. She’ll help us or she’ll die. Since she was so good at opposing us when Coltello threatened her, I figure we can do the same.” Tabita stalked closer. “You’re a healer. Are you good with magic that isn’t healing?”
“Divination,” Chase said, caught with both werewolves flanking her. “I’m both an Oracle and a Medium. That’s what we do is figure things out by asking the gods and the cosmos in general.”
“Mmm. That last part, I can usually do,” Tabita growled. “I’m a Shaman. But it will take me time, probably the rest of the night to perform a dream quest. If your work is faster, then perhaps we can figure something out.”
“Mostly. I have one skill that can knock me out for an hour and a half or so,” Chase said, still equidistant between the player and the Alpha. “But the more I know, the more reliable my work is. I don’t have to spend time separating my assumptions from the reality, if that makes sense. Can I ask you a few questions before I start firing up my magic?”
To Chase’s relief, the Alpha hesitated, then walked around to join Tabita. The ring of werewolves spread out and slipped into the trees ringing the hillside or headed down slope. She’d passed a test of some sort. Now all she had to do was stall... stall and maybe figure out a few things that Thomasi couldn’t or wouldn’t tell her.
“I think that’s fair,” Tabita said. “But we can’t waste too much time. This needs to be done while the moon is full, and I don’t want to wait another month if we take too long tonight.”
“I’ll try not to waste time with the stupid stuff, then,” Chase took a breath. “What do you need help with?”
Tabita gave herself a shake... and then she was standing there in her dwarven form. Wearing clothes this time, thankfully. She opened an overlarge purse that Chase vaguely recalled seeing at one point and hauled out a rolled up piece of fur. She shook it out in the moonlight, and Chase’s breath hissed from between her teeth as a small pair of chains on one side of it jingled.
She’d gotten one of the skins Chase had planted, and that meant that there was some hope of salvaging things.
“What is that?” Chase asked.
“My skin. My old skin.” Tabita sighed. “Do you know how I got this skin? Do you know how I got my Job?”
“No.”
“Shaman and Berserker didn’t cut it. Shaman and Scout didn’t work out. No matter what I did, or how many people I hunted down and ate, it just didn’t unlock.”
Chase’s eyes went wide, but after a brief struggle, she kept the emotion off her
face.
“Shaman and Tamer... that one worked. It got me to Lycanthrope, but the downsides outweighed the upsides. Then at level ten I got rank up options, but none fit... Until I got a lead off Readit.”
“Off what?”
“A secret repository of lore. Some of it’s lies, but occasionally it worked out. And this lead told about the legend of the loup-garou... as the devs saw it, anyway.”
“The loup-garou... you skinned yourself?” Chase burst out, horrified.
“I did.” Tabita smiled. Then the smile faded. “This was before I felt pain.” Now she was frowning. “Now it’s going to be a different story.”
“Before you felt pain? You didn’t used to? Is...” Chase swallowed and threw a silent Foresight out there. She didn’t see herself get gutted for asking, so she chanced it. “Is this a player thing?”
“You know about that?” Tabita considered her warily.
“Very little,” Chase confessed. “Cagna told me about Pwner, but I don’t think she had the full picture, either. You don’t die, or you come back, and you’re from another world?”
“A dull world, a dreary world.” Tabita said, her voice rising bit by bit. “A world full of sheep who don’t know they’re being sheared, a world where the powerful and greedy won years ago, and turned everyone else into slaves, and everyone is okay with it!” Now she was stalking around the clearing, fuming, but her anger wasn’t directed at Chase and that was a good thing. “A world where the rich buy up the wilds and fence them off and rape the land, ruining it forever! A world where you’re not free to be what you want to be. Where you have to work jobs frantically, if you want to even survive. A world without magic, where dreams die and nobody cares because that’s just how it is.” She spat.
The Alpha sat a warning hand on Chase’s shoulder, leaning down a bit to do so. Chase nodded to him. She was smart enough not to interrupt, but it was good he cared. It made her chances of survival that much easier.
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