Eloise VI: The Righteous

Why am I even here? It’s not too late to turn back.

Eloise steeled herself to plunge into this abyss, to speak with the girl that had almost drowned her over a minor insult.

Doubtless this would be difficult, but…

What’s the alternative? Running around in circles for the rest of my life, until I’m just as hardened into place as Jacques? Avoiding that had been the whole point of leaving. No, as painful as this would be, it had to be done.

Eloise ducked her head down to pass through a gap in a crumbling wall of Levian’s temple, only to see that the other end of her rendezvous had already arrived.

Under her winter coat she was wearing a stunning green dress, lines of black tracing across it in serpentine patterns. Her hair was mostly light brown now, and cut shorter, though the tips remained the same blue. A bit ostentatious, perhaps, but something about her bearing helped her pull it off. Certainly, it looked far better than the blue streak Claude and the acolytes had borne as a sop to their ostensible status as priests of Levian.

“Camille Leclaire,” Eloise began. “You’re looking better than the last time I saw you.”

“And when was that?” the lady asked, either pretending or genuinely not remembering their meeting on the deck of the Seward Folly, when she’d pulled the ship deep underwater to hide it.

Fine, play it that way if you want.

“When that Lord of Soleil shot you in the chest with a pistol,” Eloise answered, though she hadn’t been particularly close enough to see it directly. “It’s a high bar to surpass, I know, but you managed it anyway, you great achiever, you. Felicitations, truly.”

Leclaire narrowed her eyes. “I survived. It’s more than most could say when an Avaline super weapon is fired directly into them.”

“Is it? I barely noticed when someone fired one at me.” Because it only grazed my jacket. “Though I suppose some of us are more fragile than others.”

Delightfully, Leclaire clenched her fists at that, not quite able to contain her obvious displeasure. “Do you have a point, or are you simply here to taunt me?”

“Jacques told you, but I suppose it’s difficult to remember such a thing with your oh-so busy schedule. Being who you are, I imagine even the most basic details often elude you.” She smirked. “I’m looking to set up a tradehall in the north end of the city. A fixed place for people to meet and exchange goods, sheltered from the harsh elements.”

“A marketplace… I suppose one of your ilk would look to such base endeavors even at a time like this. There is always another excuse to profit in lieu of the moral course for those lacking the fortitude to follow it, after all. But you must be quite desperate to come to me.”

Maybe. “Am I? You’re a sage. A key rite of yours is consuming psyben and the like. Still banned in Malin under Avaline rule. Acolytes used to be our main customers before the demand dried up, and a little alouette told me you’re carrying on the tradition, in sight of the prince, even. Doesn’t it help you to give people a better opportunity to acquire things they otherwise couldn’t?”

“I don’t need to help you for that.”

“But you could.”

“I could.” She smiled. “You have yet to offer me a compelling reason.”

Eloise smiled back, leaning back confidently. Fuck. The market affair was an excuse for the meeting, but it was meant to get her more amenable first. Negotiating. That was why she’d framed it all about selling banned substances, rather than fencing stolen goods from other cities.

Apparently, it hadn’t helped much.

Right, enough of this, then. Time to make a change. “Officially, you’re here as an emissary of the Empire of the Fox, lending aid to a struggling city in a trying time. Right?”

“Yes…” The sage raised an eyebrow. “I would hope such an obvious point would not have eluded an entrepreneur prevailing upon me for a favor, but I suppose some of us are better informed than others.”

Prick. “That’s the official story. And obviously you’d never dare to try anything beyond that. I mean, you’d never dream of driving Avalon out of Malin and liberating the city. Not a chance, no ‘my lady’, the very thought is unthinkable.”

“If this is an attempt to incriminate me, it’s as transparent as it is moronic. It’s certainly not going to help you get the permissions you need to open your market. Really, you’re asking me for the favor here. Remember who needs whom. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that your usual base nature is sufficiently abhorrent that you undermine even your own selfish goals.”

So you do remember me, then. Awful petty of you to pretend otherwise.

“Scant wonder Florette fled the moment you returned. I’m amazed she managed to tolerate you even that long.”

Fucker. Eloise narrowed her eyes. “That was personal. This is business.”

“And our business is concluded. You have nothing to offer me but outrageous demands.” Leclaire turned to go, icy wind causing her hair to stream out behind her.

“Well, far be it from me to contract your reading of things, ‘my lady’. I’ll just be on my way then.” Eloise smiled. “Along with my crate of pistols.”

“Pistols?” Leclaire blinked, surprise wiping the smugness from her face. Delightful. “Magnifico only had the one he offered to Lumière. High level guardians have perhaps a few dozen more. An entire crate—”

“Is the least of what we stole, but other buyers have beaten you to the rest.” Take it. Take it and get these murderous fucks out of my city.

Mom had tried to do the right thing, and the Blue Bandit before her. Directly. They’d brought a dagger to a sword fight; the result was inevitable, no matter their righteous intentions. A noble stand, but…

“Bluff all you like, but I know you want it.”

“Do I? That very weapon nearly killed me. They ought to be destroyed.”

“And no one ought ever have to steal to survive. Prisoners ought to be allowed to live. All of us ought to go to bed sated and warm, and wake the next day free of worry.” Eloise forced a shrug, looking as unbothered as she could. “Furthermore, Avalon ought to be destroyed. And yet it remains. Do you want them or not?”

A way to catch two fishes with one hook, to foist the remaining weapons on a willing buyer and make a stand against the assholes that had killed Mom. The Blue Bandit, too, amongst countless others.

Undone by their own weapons. Isn’t that a nice thought?

Leclaire twisted her mouth, staring past Eloise in an obvious negotiating tactic. “That’s assuming quite a bit. I’m here to provide aid, given Avalon’s total inadequacy in the face of spiritual crises. That doesn’t mean I’m here to contest their rule.”

Eloise rolled her eyes. “And I’m sure you had nothing to do with covering up the train job either, from your position deep in Prince Lucky’s council. Get real.”

“I…” She bit her lip, somehow lush and red even in this dry mockery of a true winter. “One who realized how crucial a favor I did for you and your paramour might think to thank me for it, rather than throw it in my face.”

“Oh yes, I’m sure the impropriety of it all is just chafing you raw. Terrible, terrible shame.” Eloise swung her arm down in a bow, far too sloppily to convey anything but mockery. “And I’m equally sure you’re so wounded that you’ll throw away the best tools against Avalon you’ve ever had the chance to touch.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Good.” Eloise handed her a slip of paper with her price, substantially discounted for the cause.

Leclaire’s eyes looked ready to exit her face when she read the figure, and it probably wasn’t because she was impressed at the discount.

“Duke Fouchand paid us that much for the airship schematics we nicked from Crescent Isle. Plans, requiring expertise, technology, and time before they’d be any use to his aims. I’m offering you dozens of weapons in hand that you could use tomorrow. I’m even making it easy for you.” I’m doing the right thing, you arrogant asshole. Did you really grow up so rich that you can’t even see the opportunity in front of you right now? “You’re set to be the fucking queen. Don’t tell me you can’t afford it.”

“No.” Leclaire crumpled the paper in her hands, then shoved it into the pocket of her coat. “No, that’s not the issue. I don’t trust you.”

“Smartest thing you’ve said all day.” Eloise scoffed. “Honestly, clever people never trust anyone. That’s not the point.”

“Isn’t it? Prince Lucifer is suspicious enough of my loyalty, and I know you two had your little expedition through the Refuge wasteland. There have been tests, which I have passed because I could honestly grant him certain concessions, backed by my word before the spirits. And yet he remains suspicious. As do I, seeing you of all people coming up to me and setting aside the profitable cause in favor of the just one.”

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

“Well…”

“What is more likely, do you think? That Florette completely neglected to inform me of remaining weaponry in Malin, then perhaps the worst person in the world arrived to offer me everything? Or that Luce invented another crate of pistols to test my loyalty, and paid you to execute the plan?”

“Ha!” Eloise couldn’t help but laugh. “Florette never even told you. She didn’t even give you a chance to bid on them…” Her smile filled her face. “Perhaps if you were nicer to your lessers, they might cut you in on opportunities before the world slides into darkness.”

She kept laughing as Leclaire stared pensively, no doubt trying to gauge her intentions.

“But if it’s Luce you’re worried about, you should wait until you hear my conditions.”

The sage raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not looking to muck things up for him here, not right now.” We had an understanding. “There’s better targets. Why not go where the tyranny is at its cruelest, the oppression most hardened?”

“Ombresse?” Leclaire scratched her chin. “Lyrion? Île Dimanche? It’s not as if there’s any one obvious choice, if we’re excluding Malin.”

“Any of them. All of them. It doesn’t matter. Just not here.” Not when it could see that thick head of his penetrated with lead as a result. “That’s my condition.”

Half a smile traced across Leclaire’s face, her eyes lighting up with dancing blue energy. “You’re under the same constraints I am, aren’t you? You’re not making a moral stand, you’re just stuck!” She laughed. “Pressed to make an oath before Cya, were you? It should hearten you to know that she didn’t even think it was worth mentioning. I suppose Luce deserves more credit than I was giving him.” She laughed again, confident in her misunderstanding. “My word, framing it as a condition of the deal… You haven’t changed a bit, have you?”

Whatever works. She does have a point about what’s more likely, I guess. “So you accept?”

“Not yet. As I said, I’ve made certain commitments. Liberating, say, Lyrion before their term has ended would pose difficulties for me.”

Eloise blinked. “Yeah, makes total sense. You’re leaving Malin and the prince alone, yet completely breaking your word. Somehow.”

“I didn’t say that. But it would lose me his trust, and prematurely. Such a thing would damage him, with investigators poking around the Governor’s death. If those pistols end up assassinating Horace Williams, his mark will be tied to it, be it through incompetence or betrayal. I won’t purchase them until the sun returns. Anything else risks jeopardizing the greater prize.”

“Are you fucking negotiating again?”

“No. As I said, the payment isn’t an issue.” She flicked her eyes to the side, appearing to choose her next words carefully. “The blowback is the issue. Once the sun returns, however, in Luce’s own words: all bets are off.”

“That same issue with the whole thing fucking him over won’t matter then?” Eloise grit her teeth. I’m just supposed to carry on the same way, waiting for a day that might never come?

No, there were other avenues to explore. Even it meant leaving Malin. There were supply chain reasons she could contrive to square it with Jacques, though it would be monstrously hard to keep Margot out of trouble from afar…

“Will that be an issue for the oath you swore?” Leclaire asked. When Eloise couldn’t respond, she simply continued. “Don’t think about Luce, consider the abstract. The greater scope of history.”

And ignore all the people too small to mention in it, of course. Still, Eloise listened.

“There’s an old Gaspardi legend about a hole in the center of the world, a gaping chasm from which nothing can ever escape. A bridge is suspended over the hole, allowing those imbecilic Condorcets to cross, closer to the dark void than any living soul could ever boast.”

“An aspirational goal.” Eloise rolled her eyes.

“I never claimed to believe in it, but it’s a useful framework.”

“I can see that. It’s so obvious, really. Masterful, even, in the way it so neatly ties up every point in our conversation—”

“If you possessed even the slightest modicum of patience, perhaps you’d understand the parallels.” Leclaire flicked a strand of hair from her face. “Those who earned Khali’s disfavor were sentenced to hang off the side of that bridge, forever on the precipice of oblivion, only their grip keeping them tethered to Terramonde. Stray too close to the edge as you cross the bridge, and you risk one grabbing you and pulling you down, that they might rise and take your place in the world above.”

“Fascinating and relevant.”

“It’s him or you, in that hypothetical. However despicable it might be to pull a soul down to the void, the alternative is annihilation.”

“Just like it is for you, totally, it all makes perfect sense. I mean, you could never just stop, and go home. I mean the Fox-King hates you, I’m sure, and that Duchess from the papers. Just enemies, in the end.”

Leclaire frowned. “There is so much you do not know, and even more you cannot understand.”

“Well, unless you’re going to drop dead the moment you leave the city, I don’t really see…” Eloise trailed off, seeing the haunted look on the aristo’s face. She dealt with spirits every day, making pacts and bargains to build her power, and then she returned from the dead… Not a certainty, but it would explain things. What did they ask of her in return? “I get it,” she said, instead of continuing the thought.

“Really?”

Eloise nodded, taking in the weight of things. “Everything has a cost.” Especially morality.

≋

Mince’s hands were cold, lifeless talons choking the life out of Eloise’s neck. Her side was sore from the drop from the rooftop, her leg on fire beneath the snow she’d landed on, and none of it mattered so much as the lack of air.

“Thought you could slip away again, did you? Not this time.” Mince removed one hand from her neck, then used it for a hard punch to the nose. “You set me up, you dirty rat. Two years in that prison, marked for life. And somehow, that wasn’t even the worst part.”

The worst part is having to live your life as such a useless asshole, Eloise tried to say, but only a faint wheeze escaped. Rippling patterns of black and white traced across her eyes, obscuring Mince’s grinning face as she continued talking.

“You couldn’t even use it. You got me out of the way and then you just fucked off like it didn’t even matter to you, like you were better than all the rest of us. And then you had the fucking balls to come crawling back like nothing had happened. You interfered, again, and all it got Claude was a public, painful death when you know Jacques does it clean and fast. You lied to him, betrayed all of us again. And for what? Some mincy Acolyte so far on the fringes that Jacques didn’t even know he existed until he fucked his way up into an arrest?”

“Like… you…” Eloise choked out. If I’m going to die, I’m at least going out leaving her pissed off.

“Because you told the Guardians!” Mince squeezed her neck harder. “Don’t think I didn’t figure it out, the way your pissant little sister ended up at that fancy school right after. You must have done a big favor for someone in a high place to pull that off, huh? Always so ‘legitimate’. That might have been enough to get you into Jacques’ graces, but I always knew. And now even he realizes I was right.”

I only set you up because you were sending her our as a mule without telling me, you fucking shit smear of a human being.

“Funny that it’s Claude who finally brought you down. Even Ysengrin was on board when it was time for him to die, and they’ve been friends for years. Real shaken up about it, but he understood what had to be done. Everyone did, except the arrogant bitch who thought she could just saunter back in like nothing had happened. You never could just get with the program. Never could follow orders. Never could pull your inflated head out of your selfish ass for even two minutes.”

Eloise’s vision was darkening around the edges, the pain starting to feel more distant, muted. Margot got away. That’ll have to be enough.

“I always knew you’d fail out there, but I am so glad that you came back here so I could kill you myself. It’s honestly the nicest thing you’ve ever done. Now look at me. I want my face to be the last thing you ever see. If you can think about—”

A crack filled the air, and Mince’s hands loosened, then fell away entirely.

Eloise sucked in air like she’d been underwater for days, feeling the cold and pain flow back into her as her life did. It hurt so much she could barely move, but she forced her head to turn, to follow where Mince had gone. To see her lying there, face down in the snow, a circle of red pouring out into the white.

Ysengrin stood above her, holding a blood-spattered log in his hands.

“Yse?” she croaked.

“She was wrong,” he said, a tremor in his voice. “Saving Claude was the nicest thing you’ve ever done.” He let go of the log, letting it drop down with its bloody end embedded into the snow. “I thought there were no other options, but Florette was right. I was just a coward. You were stronger.”

“Thank… you…” she managed between long breaths.

Yse nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “But what now? Jacques is going to expect a report and he’s going to expect Mince to give it. What do we…? I mean…”

“Grab me?” Eloise asked, her voice starting to come back. “Please, I could use some help.”

“Oh, sure.” Ysengrin bent down, sliding his arms under hers and lifting her to her feet. “But I meant—”

“I know what you meant.” Now that she was upright, Eloise was pleased to find that at least one leg supported her weight just as well as it normally did. A walking stick could make do for the other, until it healed. Even if it hurts like a bitch. “We need to go to the beach, to the temple.”

“Why?”

Eloise started to respond, but she was interrupted by a loud groan.

On the ground, Mince was starting to lift her head up.

“Shit.” Eloise shuffled forward, making sure she was out of the range where her leg could get grabbed again. She always was tough, I guess.

Yse was looking a bit more conflicted about it. “We were sent on this job together. I was just trying to get you out, I didn’t want… I can’t kill her just for doing her job. I was doing the same thing! It’s not…”

“I understand completely.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Eloise nodded, reaching for her belt.

“Oh, good,” Yse said, just an instant before Eloise threw her knife into Mince’s back.

That stopped her wriggling.

“Oh,” he said again.

“Alright, let’s go.”

“To the temple? You never said why—”

“That’s where I stashed the guns. It’s about time to use them, don’t you think?”