Erastus 22

  The Dretch’s flesh was frozen solid, stinging the hand that dared to touch it, and incredibly stiff. Its obese form was dense, mixing muscle with fb to pack nearly two hundred pounds into a four foot tall frame. Its cws were as sharp as bdes, threatening to cleave through flesh if left to dangle loosely. On top of everything it smelled awful. Hauling it across town was a miserable, thankless job. Thank the gods I didn’t have to do it.

  My shadow puppet was easily strong enough to sling the whole dretch across its shoulders and follow Syl and I. It even had an auto-follow setting, allowing me to leave navigation up to Autopilot. I was able to enjoy the stroll through town with Syl, not worrying about much for a while.

  At least until Syl decided to open her mouth.

  “I know you don’t like talking about your past, but I think we need to.” She said delicately. “If not right now, then definitely before we leave this isnd. Some of the things you told us st night have me kinda worried.”

  The things I what now? Shit. I bcked out, what the fuck did I say?

  I informed the officers, mostly the girls, of my marital status and retionship with Nendra. Notably the fact that I was essentially purchased for the purposes of breeding by the richest family in Hesndaena due to my exceptional pedigree as both a noble and sorcerer.

  Oh. Oh fuck.

  “Yeah. I think you’re right.” I answered, crossing my arms. “Since the ice is already broken, I’m kinda gd you brought it up. I was a little out of it; what did the others think?”

  “Sosima seemed offended on your behalf. I think Sandra thought it was more interesting than worrying.” Syl said, “Cog didn’t say much but he was listening in for most of it, so I’m pretty sure he was at least intrigued.”

  “And you?” I asked.

  “Worried.” She said, “Rich families protect their investments, or they don’t stay rich. I imagine that’s even more true for elves.”

  “Yeah, probably.” I sighed, “I don’t think they left Hesndaena all that often, but if I make a name for myself they’ll probably notice me. My menu all but spelled out that they will try to meddle in my life at best.”

  “Do you have a pn for that?” Syl asked.

  “Not really.” I admitted. “I’ve got the mirror, which I might be able to use on one of them to get them off my back one way or another.”

  I had a magic mirror that would, one time, make a doppelg?nger of a target that would attempt to kill them. Supposedly the doppelg?nger would be naturally aligned with my interests and maintain all the target’s abilities, but I didn’t really know the details of how it would work. As long as they weren’t stronger than me they’d stick around permanently, but if they were higher level they’d vanish. Of course, that meant that if I wanted a permanent repcement I wouldn’t be able to punch up anywhere near as much.

  “Unless you need to use the mirror for something else before then.” She countered. “It’s our biggest trump card.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I agreed, “any suggestions?”

  “Well first you can tell me what you’ve been holding out on.” She said, frowning. “Is this reted to that plots tab you’ve been vague about? I thought it was trying to get you into politics.”

  “That, and deal with some vague threat, and deal with the Drow.” I revealed. “Most of it isn’t actionable right now. Rushing to do missions when we don’t have a reliable income stream to pay the crew is financial suicide.”

  “Even if I grant you that, it doesn’t change the fact that you’re hiding things.” Syl growled. “I thought you wanted me to be your partner? Why tell me any of it if you’re going to keep secrets whenever it pleases you?”

  “Fine, fine, I’ll tell you.” I said. “Unfortunately, it’s going to have to wait. Jerry’s house is right over there.”

  Syl took a deep breath, then focused on me with her abaster eyes.

  “I won’t forget.” She hissed. “Please, in the future, at least tell me what you aren’t telling me.”

  “Deal.” I promised. “It’s just a lot, ok?”

  The small shacks huddled together on the edge of town, separated by passages only wide enough to navigate in single file. Like zebra, their inhabitants found safety in uniformity, unmarked by numbers. If a visitor didn’t know where to go, they had no business here. Some of the houses had a symbol etched into their door, or once in a rare while a sign advertising services to locals. Jerry’s house was marked by a stuffed vulture that sat on the corner of his roof, head pointed at his small front porch.

  The dretch was thawing by the time we reached our destination, and was proving to be a big sack of mildly acidic bile. Its skin was heavily freezer burnt, and fked off when my shadow tried to lift it from the top or sides. One drop early on had cracked the surface near its elbow, causing an occasional drop of green slime to dribble out of the corpse.

  He’s a necromancer, right? Death mages probably love exotic corpses.

  We gathered on his stoop so I could knock on the front door. Rowe hadn’t followed any kind of procedure st time we’d come here, and it was te morning. I wasn’t expecting Jerry to still be in bed. However, when we knocked there was no immediate answer. Syl and I waited for several minutes in awkward silence, her lingering irritation making small talk impossible.

  Shit. What do we do with this thing if we can’t give it to Jerry? This is the right house, right Autopilot? Fuck! You better not have rolled a secret critical failure on me!

  “Why in all the nine hells did you bring that thing to my doorstep?” Jerry growled as he opened the door. “Fine, you can come in, just stop drawing attention!”

  Jerry was a tall guy with an old man’s face, embellished with an eye patch. The dim fire on his hearth filled his stress lines with shadows, making them look deeper than they really were. I’d only had one real conversation with him, but he’d implied that he wasn’t quite as ancient as he looked. Based on what he told me about his finances, I pegged him at early 30s, tops.

  I mean, he works with criminals routinely. Cultivating a bit of gravitas probably helps. Old men dominate the wizarding world, I assume.

  “Sorry.” I said, as my shadow hauled the dretch inside, “I didn’t mean to be rude. I just don’t have a way of contacting you in advance, you know?”

  “Tea?” He asked, popping a kettle into the firepce and waving his hand towards it.

  “If it’s not too much trouble.” I said. Syl gave a far more straightforward “yes.”

  “Good.” He said, then pointed at the demon corpse we’d dragged into his living room, “Now expin that while the water boils.”

  “Please do.” Syl agreed, deadpan.

  Well I thought it was obvious.

  “You deal in attaching souls to new bodies, right?” I said, defensively. “I thought you might want an exotic body. I’m here to ask about business, by the way, so it’s fine if you don’t want it.”

  Jerry looked over his shoulder at me, his one good eye wide and his mouth sck. For just a second he stared, then sighed and turned back to his cupboard to fetch cups for us.

  “Fucking sorcerers.” He grumbled. “Get handed magic on a silver ptter and they barely know how anything works.”

  He let me sweat while he pulled out a slightly tarnished tea set, including a charming little sugar bowl. He gestured at the table with an agitated jerk of his hand, prompting Syl and I to sit. Throughout the process he had a pensive expression, likely trying to word his expnation. (Sense motive 11+2=13)

  “One,” he said, pouring the water into an pitcher and dropping a metal ball into it. “I deal with fresh bodies. That thing is so frostbitten that if it did come back it’d need to regrow most of the epidermis. Cold can help slow decay in a pinch, but being fsh frozen breaks down the body. I’d need to spend hours reconstructing it, and I only do that for clients who pay through the nose.”

  “Second,” he said as the water changed color to a warm amber, billowing out from the infuser. “I deal with mortal bodies. Outsiders are themselves made primarily from the souls of mortals. It’s not equipped to house a mortal soul, because it already is a fragmented mortal soul. There's no metaphysical slot for me to put anything into.”

  “And third,” he said, pouring for each of us and passing around the sugar bowl, “it’s made of abyssal quintessence. During its transformation into a demon, it was charged with what I’m forced to call elemental evil and chaos due to the ck of better terminology. If I managed to incorporate a limb or organ into someone’s body and soul as part of a graft, there’s a substantial chance that the customer would start manifesting side effects. Physical, spiritual, psychological; nearly anything is on the table.”

  He sipped his tea.

  “So no,” he said, “I don’t have much interest in the rapidly decaying demonic corpse you brought me today.”

  Syl patted me on the shoulder.

  “Maybe we should have stowed it somewhere and asked first.” She said. “Would have saved us the leg work.”

  “Try not to dispose of it anywhere near my house, if you please?” Jerry added. “It’ll probably linger in the environment for days or weeks. Nothing too bad, hopefully.”

  “Gods damn it, it leaves toxic waste too?” I asked, and received a nod. “Fuck demons.”

  “That does seem to be the near universal consensus across nearly all entities within the cosmos, yes.” Jerry noted, sipping his tea. “Fun fact, there’s an entire species of entities older than Gorion that wishes to wipe out all mortals, just so we stop producing souls that will turn into demons.”

  “Is there anything useful we can do with it?” I asked, practically begging. “I’d really prefer to use this instead of throwing it into the ocean or something.”

  “Plenty of potential uses, almost none of them savory. I could use it to animate a particurly persistent and aggressive skeleton if I were in the business of doing such things.” Jerry said, shrugging. “Dretches are dregs, but I suppose they might have some applications in alchemy or enchanting. They’d likely need to be rendered down. I can destroy the body safely if you aren’t going to get it out of my house.”

  “Yeah. Do that.” I said, admitting defeat.”We can get another one easily if we figure it out.”

  He waved his hand, and the Dretch colpsed into a pile of fine ash. As we spoke, the dust steamed lightly, sublimating into the atmosphere. Jerry didn’t seem concerned, so I assumed it was fine.

  “We did have business to discuss as well, sir.” Syl piped up. “You can repce lost limbs, yes?”

  “I can.” He said, “much easier than my primary job, actually. Who is it for? Both of you seem fine.”

  Jerry leaned to the side, checking our legs under the table.

  No peg legs here.

  “It’s for a friend.” I expined. “She lost an arm.”

  “Where?” Jerry asked, then took a long pull to finish his tea.

  “It was in a cave.” I expined, “we ran into this squid creature guarding some grindylows.”

  “No, not that.” Jerry waved one hand. “Where was the arm severed? I need to know; it’ll be much more expensive if I don’t have one ready that fits her injury.”

  “Full removal of the right arm,” Syl expined. “It dislocated her arm from the shoulder socket and ripped it off at that point. I think there may be some additional damage in the area, but our cleric was just barely able to stabilize her before she sustained brain damage due to the rapid blood loss and severed arteries.”

  “Lucky girl.” Jerry said, raising his eyebrows. “Dominant or off hand?”

  “Dominant.”

  “Bst. Most people prefer to sell their off hands.” He sighed, “the phantom muscle memory will conflict with her natural inclinations, but she should be able to retrain herself with some effort.”

  “So you can help her?” I asked, “what is it likely to cost?”

  “I’ll need to see her, but if I can fit her with one of the arms I’ve got in the back it should only be around 200 gold. More if I need to make adjustments.” He said, “I’d prefer Chelish if you have them; no one is convincing me that Sargava doesn’t mix a bit of brass in at their mint.”

  Well shit. There goes the st of Plugg’s money.

  “There it is.” I said, smiling ruefully. “That’s why I was hoping to pay in demon corpses. So do we make an appointment or..?”

  Jerry stood up and pulled out a bck book. He leafed through it, thoughtfully.

  “Two days hence, at dawn?” He asked, gncing up at me. “If not then, I’m spoken for until next week.”

  “That’ll be fine.” I agreed. “Do we need to pay in advance?”

  “Have the coin on hand.” Jerry said, “and bring the patient any time tomorrow except noon. I need to examine her if I’m going to choose the right arm.”

  “Deal.” I agreed.

  I held out a hand, and we shook.

  “There was one more thing before we leave.” I said, “unless you wanted to chat.”

  “Make it quick?” He said. “I have a client in three hours and I need to prepare.”

  “We have another friend who made a pact with a spirit.” I expined delicately. “Long story short, she has some obligations she needs to fulfill for the next year or until she dies. Can you help her get out of that?”

  Jerry frowned.

  “I’d suggest letting it run its course, if that’s bearable.” Jerry suggested, “especially if you’re worrying about price on a quick arm repcement. Severing pacts is a dangerous process, and in all likelihood she would be obliged to fight you over it. We’d need to sever her soul’s connection to her body and then repce it, which is exhausting, and if her original body is overly damaged in the process we would need to substitute in a new one. You’re looking at a few thousand, depending on a number of details you haven’t expined yet.”

  “No need,” Syl interjected. “It’s too rich for our blood, even setting aside the rest. A year isn’t so bad, right Emrys?”

  “Yeah, I guess.” I admitted. “Doesn’t help that the pact itself means we can’t really get her opinion.”

  “Anything else?” Jerry asked, “I’m a busy man.”

  I’m not sure if I believe you, but sure. We can get out of your hair.

  “We don’t need to discuss the details right now,” I said, “but I was hoping you might invest in my new ship? We discussed the possibility st time I was in town, and startup costs are a bitch even if a whole ship drops into your p.”

  He scratched his short beard thoughtfully.

  “What’s your pn?” He asked. “I’m not opposed, but I’d need to know how you intend to make money. Do you have your fgs yet?”

  “We still need to hammer out the details, and you are right that we need to get a proper set of fgs before we can start in earnest. It may be a few months before we are likely to see returns.” I said, pulling out a small stack of paper from my inner pocket and pcing it on the table. “I intend to serve in a mercenary capacity, as is the standard entry into the industry, but I have a pn that I really think will set us apart as a crew while also allowing us to break into a new market.”

  The proposal I’d written up was derived from dozens of knowledge and appraisal checks on my part, which I’d used as the basis of my data set. I allowed Jerry to read for a few moments before unching into my prepared speech.

  “Land is at a premium in the Shackles, but the overwhelming majority of individuals are incapable or unwilling to do what is necessary to acquire it. The low hanging fruit has mostly been snatched up, and the rger isnds are mostly spoken for by members of the High Pirate Council.” I expined. “However, that very fact implies opportunity. Less than five percent of the popution could manage what my crew did on Bonewrack, even with the preliminary research and specialized equipment that we were forced to do without. Most of that minority is focused on fighting over or on behalf of the same 30 isnds and coastal settlements.”

  “Plundering the lesser isnds is hardly novel.” Jerry objected. “Even assuming you can reliably find locations that haven’t already been picked clean.”

  “Correct. Which is why plundering the isnds is not the primary thrust of the business model.” I expined. “Many members of the merchant css serve as a client group for the current lords, greater or petty, essentially forced to rent all of their nd. I believe they would be willing to pay a premium for access to small, secure isnds where they can act with impunity. I have only a few data samples that my companions were able to recall from memory, but I believe that a fertile and secure isnd could sell for upwards of 100 gold per acre, before factoring in any relevant natural resources.”

  Jerry gave a long, low whistle.

  “Risky. There are dark pces in the Shackles.” He warned. “Ghouls are one thing, but what if you find another Yoha’s?”

  Shit. Autopilot. I need intel.

  Yoha’s Graveyard is a rge isnd known to be occupied by an exceptionally powerful outsider, probably some kind of sealed greater demon or daemon. Crews which nd upon the isnd generally never return, or return as broken men. (Knowledge Geography 13+2=15)

  Fuck. Yeah, avoiding that. Dretches are bad enough, I don’t need greater demons. Thankfully I do have an answer.

  “If you check page 4, you’ll see my pn for how to select our targets for development.” I expined. “We will seek out locations like Bonewrack which have a known and established threat, preferably ones where we can find a client to fund the expedition on other grounds. People will want to hire muscle to help them find known caches of treasure, do academic research into ruins, obtain revenge against certain antagonistic factions, and the like. This will provide us with a cushion to cover our expenses, as we are able to scout the area while doing the initial targeted expedition.”

  I took a sip of my tea, to ensure that my throat wouldn’t become scratchy. As I did, I noted the faint smile pying across Syl’s lips.

  “Due to my proficiency in the art of Calling, I believe that I will be able to do an initial sweep of even unknown isnds.” I eborated, “though I have no intention of engaging with total no-go zones without the promise of substantial financial backing. Known threats with recognizable names and stories are likely to be far more valuable for establishing my brand, regardless.”

  “Impressive.” Jerry said, as he finished scanning through the papers. “Only one question left, other than how you intend to avoid being torn apart without sponsorship, I suppose. How are you pnning on dealing with people who want to steal your work? Decring yourself a lord is traditionally an open call for challengers.”

  Decring myself lord? What?

  Syl gnced over at me, and her smile faltered slightly when she saw my fixed grin. Her eyes narrowed as she stepped in.

  “We won’t be holding the isnd for long,” she expined, “and nobody is technically required to register ownership of an isnd with the Council unless they are making a bid for a seat. With any luck, the only people likely to attack will be bottom feeders and opportunists. Once we have made the sale, it won’t be our problem if the client can’t hold the isnd.” Anyone who owns an isnd is a de facto Pirate Lord by the Shackles code of w, and technically allowed to attend council meetings. Both we and our clients will be expected to defend our cim. (Bluff to convey a secret message 13+0=13)

  “And we will of course see about making contact with organizations willing to provide security services in our absence.” I said, “after all, wise clients of ours will have already proven that they have deep pockets. I’m even open to providing such a service personally if the pay is good, but only in a temporary capacity.”

  Jerry nodded, satisfied.

  “Good enough. So, let’s talk numbers.” He said, hunching forward and steepling his fingers.