Erastus 25, Evening

  The good part about working for a rich, eccentric grindylow artificer is that he will welcome you into his home and give you free food. The bad part is that he will give you the kind of food he enjoys eating. I’d never had bear meat before that day, but I suspect that “nearly raw and brined in seawater for days” was not the best introduction. “Dave” seemed to like it, at least.

  In the light of day, the painted maids were much less perfect than they had seemed on the first night. Their skin was textured with brush strokes, and their hair moved in chunks like they’d used far too much hair gel. I knew from the orc that they were anatomically correct beneath their painted clothes, but had no need or time to explore the subject further. I had a job to do if I didn’t want an irritated Melku on my hands.

  I’d already pissed him off accidentally; Pepper had followed my 5000 gold limitation only by an incredibly generous interpretation. Had all the items she’d grabbed been merely high quality mundane objects, she’d have been well under budget. She was, however, in the house of an artificer. The magical tea kettle she’d snatched, able to heat water to boiling a few times per day, was worth 600 on the open market. That was one of the cheapest items, and Melku hardly mentioned it. The real source of his irritation was the Bear Cage.

  Apparently, he’d managed to make an incredibly valuable and nearly impossible to reproduce set of three magical cages. Each one would, at the dawn of each day, contain a bear. A real, living, slightly malnourished bck bear. He had painted artisans on hand to convert that hapless creature into meat, leather, pelts, bone, cooking oil, sinew thread, and more. My piano was made entirely by these magically generated bear bones.

  He made a tidy profit off of these cages, which gave him the financial freedom to dick around, buy random expensive paintings to animate, and work only when he felt like it. It’s a big part of why he was so bsè about getting robbed. The cages were normally kept in some kind of hidden vault that he refused to eborate upon, but he’d pulled one of them up to his workshop for maintenance.

  I don’t even bme him for being pissed, I’d like one of those myself and I don’t even have the infrastructure to use it well. I hope he isn’t going to do anything drastic. Ah well, if he does then Pepper brought it upon herself. If Winsome can’t identify magic items I’ll hang up my wizard hat for good. Note to self: continue to keep watch at night in his house. He might not be as chill as he acts.

  I sent Cog out first, figuring that the House of Amber Silk would know about anyone putting out hits in town. It just seemed to be the kind of thing they’d keep tabs on. Nobody had really objected when my crew directly murdered someone to recruit Lubo and Naomi, so if we could find our target we might be able to just drop the guy.

  Pnning murder. Geez. I mean, I’m doing it specifically because he was trying to kill a different guy for not much reason, but… ugh. I don’t know anything about the guy.

  I distracted myself from contempting the slippery slope by tackling another open wound on my psyche: guilt. I’d gotten Dierdre killed, possibly permanently. Fey were essentially immortal by their own reckoning since they would always form a new body after death, but reincarnating as a sufficiently different type of fey could alter their personality so radically that they would be an entirely new person. If Dierdre became a hag, she’d feel compelled to eat children and abuse the weak, and would have difficulty thinking of a reason not to. (Knowledge Pnes 15+4=19)

  I brought Syl along, cold iron sickle in hand, when I Called Dierdre. I didn’t know if she’d even remember me, or if she’d care if she did. I needed to see what she’d become, and my only line of connection to her was her pce on my list of followers. The thin channel of power was trivial to grasp and as strong as a true name, allowing me to bring her forth with a simple Calling.

  She formed, as they all did, slowly. The essence of the First World swirled and condensed into a two foot form, nearly as tall as Conchobar. Large blue wings, like those of a butterfly, formed quickly. The rest of her body seemed to grow from the wings, which began lightly fpping long before she opened her eyes. Perhaps naturally, her first expression upon seeing me was mildly irritated.

  https://postimg.cc/Cz2K7xDz

  “So, what do you have to say for yourself, milord?” She asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm on the st word. “Not only did they have more powerful firearms than I’ve ever seen, apparently some of them can see through an inch of wood. You could have told me what I was facing.”

  She put one hand on a hip and cocked it to the side. Her carefully tailored red tunic and pants had been repced with a rough green minidress made of leaves, though the golden amulet I’d paid her with still glittered at her throat. She held a longbow casually, which vanished into sparkling dust as she spoke.

  “Dierdre?” I asked, surprised, “you still remember me?”

  “Well of course I…” she frowned. “Well, I suppose that is odd. I usually don't. Did you do something? You seem to do strange things often enough. It’s what keeps you interesting.”

  “I must have.” I said, a smile creeping across my face. “Are you alright?”

  “I died, Emrys.” She said seriously. “Less than a day ago, and I am pretty sure I incarnated a few seconds before you summoned me. Right now I have a better idea of who you are than who I am. I liked who I was, and now I need to figure it out again, and I’m not supposed to miss it!”

  “I’m sorry.” I said. “I didn’t expect what happened.”

  “You have my sympathies.” Syl said, slinging her sickle onto her belt. “Is there anything we can do to help?”

  “No, I suppose not. Wait.” Dierdre said, then stiffened, her cadance becoming archaic. “What of Rowe? I pray my blood was spilled to good effect.”

  “She’s fine.” I said. “Don’t worry, we got her out. She’s currently disguised as a Halfling named Dave, and will be for as long as we are in Goatshead.”

  “Oh, that’s clever.” Dierdre said, “no one would expect a Halfling man to be a goblin girl unless something tipped them off.”

  Syl snorted.

  “Not exactly.” She said. “Rowe got to make her own alibi.”

  Now that I knew Dierdre was ok, or at least far better off than anyone spttered across a wall had a right to be, I felt my muscles rex. A tension I hadn’t realized I felt eased away. I hadn’t lost a friend. Not yet. I let Syl fill her in while I thought, listening with half an ear.

  Autopilot, what can you give me on her new body? Her character sheet says Pixie, then everything is bnk.

  Pixies were one of the most powerful species of smallfolk, a broad cssification of small winged fey including the near-mindless Sprites, the fierce Atomies, and clever Pixies, as well as several other less common variants. Most smallfolk had a broadly good nature, sense of curiosity, and a tendency to attach themselves to more powerful beings. The rger ones tended to be smarter, tougher, and more magically powerful.

  As the thoughts ran through my head, I saw Dierdre’s character sheet popute. Her core stats came first, and they were impressive. Dexterity on par with Syl when she drank her mutagen, intelligence only one point shy of Rowe, and Charisma equal to Sosima’s. Even her strength, equivalent to an unathletic human teenager, was fairly impressive on a slim two foot frame. All of that paled in comparison to her magic.

  She possessed a smattering of illusions and utility spells, and could enchant arrows to knock people out, make them briefly fall in love, or forget the st few minutes. All of that was very impressive, but I didn’t dwell on it because she was also permanently invisible. More accurately, she was always invisible unless she desired otherwise. If someone removed her invisibility, she could resume it with a thought.

  Holy fuck. The invisibility Sandara and I can do will fritz out if we do anything hostile. If someone can’t see Dierdre, she can do whatever she wants.

  “Tell you what, Dierdre.” I said, “If our old pact stands, how about we finish this conversation over drinks. I bet the crew would love to see you.”

  ??????????

  “You have my appreciation, Deerdah.” Rowe said, “The goblin Rowe, who is not me, is a vital member of this crew and excellent person in her own right. I am sure that if she were here, which she is not, she would be very thankful.”

  I don’t know if she’s being cautious by never breaking character or if she just enjoys the act. Does Melku work with Dahk? Crap. Probably. Good thinking, Rowe.

  I filled in Syl and Sandara about Pixies while Dierdre rexed. The men were perfectly happy to accept her back into our ranks with open arms. The little fairy had become something of a mascot for the crew, and our few veterans were only too happy to pour her a gss and introduce her to the new recruits.

  Ratts sidled up close to her, making sure to keep her gss filled. She was very short for a halfling, but Ratts seemed to think he could make it work. When he leaned in close, obviously letting the wine talk, Dierdre whispered something in his ear and tweaked his nose. She let out a drunken giggle, three gsses deep herself.

  “If you can stay clean, maybe.” She teased. “I remember how you look after a month at sea.” (Perception check)

  Hell, if she were 4’10” instead of 2’ I might shoot my shot too. Hell, if I could cast reduce person I might give it a shot. Same with Rosie. Hell, even Rowe looks pretty good as “Dave”. Is it bad I kinda want to fuck all my female friends? Eh. Probably not. I can take rejection well.

  “Permanently invisible?” Sandara said with a chuckle. “If she’s in, that’ll make this assassination pn really easy.”

  “I don’t want to be reckless with her.” I said, “I checked, it’s an active spell. I can see her with detect magic. Dogs could smell her, hell, I bet a bag of flour could make her visible for at least a few seconds. She’s not untouchable; sending her solo against an unknown threat is a bad idea. She could die again.”

  “Maybe,” Syl said thoughtfully, “but that worked out pretty well st time. She came back stronger.”

  “One data point.” I countered. “We don’t know if it’ll happen again, or if it’ll go as well if it does. It also obviously upset her.”

  Syl looked hard at Deirdre, who admittedly didn’t look like her whole world was shattered. Her pearl-white eyes softened.

  “Fine.” She grumbled. “We should get her opinion on the subject anyway. Who knows, maybe she’d like the idea.”

  “Sure she will,” Sandara said, drawing out the first word. “As the only other person here who’s died, it isn’t pleasant.”

  Well, I don’t remember much about the process. No need to correct her.

  “I won’t coddle her any more than the rest of us, but I won’t leave her out to dry either.” I decred. “Death might not always be the end, but it’s sure as hell not something to be casual with. At least if one of you guys go down I know how to respond. Retrieve and preserve the body, bring it to Jerry, pay through the nose. Not good, but a known quantity. I have no idea what happened today.”

  “Maybe we try it with someone else, then?” Syl asked. “If the problem is that we don’t know, then we find out. Take some little fairy and see what they turn into?”

  “Drop it, Syl.” I sighed, “The magic I use to make connections only works on people who honestly see themselves as on the same team as me. It would be a betrayal unless they agreed. Unless you can find me a reliable supply of trustworthy fey that are eager to die, it’s not a priority.”

  “Same magic you used to check the new hires?” Sandara asked lightly. “How reliable is it?”

  “Yeah. So far it seems good but not perfect.” I admitted. “It let Caulky in, but technically I betrayed her. It seems about on par with a background check and a surface level scan of her thoughts.”

  “So, what does it say about Varossa?” Sandara asked.

  “Literally nothing.” I said, “There’s a reason I don’t trust her. We py nice, obviously. Maybe I can bring her around, but she isn’t someone to put any faith in.”

  Syl looked at me seriously.

  “We could always use the mirror, couldn’t we?” She noted, “if Varossa has the information we need in her head, wouldn’t that let us get at it? Or that new spell you’ve got to make a damn map. I don’t like the idea of leaving ourselves open to betrayal or mutiny.”

  “Funny thing about mutiny.” I mused. “You usually need more than one person to do it. Hinson and Creed are borderline according to my senses; I don’t want to rush things.”

  They show up as too high level, but they are on the list. If she’s pnning something they aren’t in on it. If they vanish, that will let me know I need to act. Who pns and executes a mutiny without telling their allies?

  Cog entered the room, his face stormy.

  “Emrys.” He called from the door. “I need to talk to you.”

  I got up and joined Cog in the hallway, where we walked until we found somewhere where the paintings were all out of their frames. Even there, we spoke in hushed voices.

  “They might be willing to help,” Cog said, “but it won’t be free.”

  “Oh?” I asked, “what’s the going rate?”

  “They want to talk to you about it in person, but I’ll just tell you now.” Cog said. “They want you in Tessa’s Fleet.”