The Kalamuzi laughed in my face. “And when did I agree to do that?” he asked.

I took my hand out of my pocket and placed it on the table. I had no fear of being attacked anymore. The fire still crackled in the corner, but it was growing a little fainter, casting flickering shadows that danced to inaudible music. “Listen Lotsq- what the hell was your name again?”

“You would make me repeat it?” he asked, a serious look on his face. He seemed almost offended, again. He got offended even easier than Cadoc did, I thought to myself. What a hassle.

I sighed. “Well I’ve got to call you something.” I thought for a moment. “How about Lot?” I suggested. “It’s a real name.”

“Lot?” he repeated, scratching his chin. It looked like he was giving some real consideration. “It’s a human name?”

“Yeah, that’s right, a human name. What do you think I’d do, give you a dog’s name? It’s not fucking Spot or something. Lot.”

He shook his head. “Then it doesn’t fit me.”

“Well that’s just too bad,” I said. “Because that’s what I’m going to call you, Lot.” He grimaced a bit, but didn’t protest any further. I pushed on. “Now listen. I’ve got two friends of mine locked inside that Omphalos.” I pointed in the direction of it, though of course we couldn’t see it from inside Lot’s hideout. “And I’m going to get them out. That is going to happen, just as surely as the sun will rise tomorrow.” I paused. “Maybe that’s a bad analogy. You’ve never seen the sun, have you?”

He shook his head. “No, I’ve never seen the sun, and I’ve also never seen anyone-“

I held up a hand. “Shut up, Lot, I don’t want to hear it.” One of his over-sized ears twitched at this, but he stopped talking. “Listen to what I’m saying to you. I am going to get those two women out. I’m going to do that if I have to burn the whole fucking dungeon to the ground. You were about to tell me some shit about how it’s impossible, how I’d die if I tried. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I will die. Dead or not, this is happening. If I die, then my ghost will haunt the Kalamuzi until they kill themselves, you understand?

“I have the magic,” I said, and he started at that. I continued, ignoring it. “I’ve got the fire, and I’ve got the hatred. All I need is to find a way inside that isn’t crawling with Kalamuzi.

“But I have no idea how long that will take,” I said. “And time is of the essence. I need to get in there before the Kalamuzi rape or sacrifice my friends. If I try to find an entrance myself, maybe I’d be too late. If I have to, I’ll just fight my way through. But you could get me inside.”

“You have magic?” he asked, eyes wide, mouth slightly ajar. He seemed a little skeptical. “My mother told me stories about magic.” Then he turned away, a forlorn look in his eyes. “Alas, they kept her drained, so I never saw it in person.”

Maybe a demonstration will help convince him, I thought. I stuck my hand back in my pocket, grabbed a nail, and drew it out. I threw it into the air, and ignited it. I made sure not to touch the staff.

It burst into a little fireball, a sun in miniature floating between the two of us for the space of a second. Somehow Lot’s eyes went even wider than before.

“Amazing,” he said breathlessly. “Absolutely amazing.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle a little. He had to have been the first person I’d met who was actually impressed by my magic. “That’s nothing,” I said. “If I’d been holding this staff when I did it,” I raised it up in one hand, “we wouldn’t be having this conversation. We’d be too busy screaming in agony as our faces melted off.”

Lot eyed the staff with suspicion. Then he shook his head again, but this time in disbelief. “I see why you are so confident. The Kalamuzi have nothing with which to counter that.” His eyes furrowed. “But then, why do you need this poor degenerate at all? Why not go, burn them all, and be done with it?”

“Because if I use the staff,” I explained. “Then I get drained, and then I can’t do anything until I’ve slept. So if anyone survives, I’d be fucked.”

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“Ah,” Lot said, slumping back into his chair. “Then it’s hopeless. There will always be more Kalamuzi.”

I clenched my fists. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I shouted at him. “Don’t be such a fucking pushover. It’s not hopeless. If you get me inside,” I unsheathed my drows. “Then I can fight them with this. One-on-one, they don’t stand a chance. You saw that one earlier. One hit.” I swung through the air as if to demonstrate.

“That was only a runt,” he said dismissively, and I was surprised they used the same term I had thought of.

“I’ve killed others,” I said, starting to sound slightly deranged, I was sure. “I even killed a Talker.”

“Really?” Lot asked. “What was his name?”

“Risthindicthi.”

Lot shook his head. “I didn’t know him. But that is a Kalamuzi name, no doubt. And considering you can’t even pronounce mine, I know you couldn’t have come up with a fake. So I suppose I’ll believe you.”

“Good,” I said. “Then you’ll help me. How do we get in?”

“You are not a good listener, are you, Miles?” he said. He seemed to have calmed down again, resigned himself. He was relaxed into his chair, leaning back as if having a casual, inconsequential conversation. “I am only a pitiable freak. I cannot help you.”

“You know how to get in,” I replied. “I’m sure you do. You lived in the Omphalos most of your life. That’s enough to help.”

He turned to me again. “And what, pray tell, do I get out of this? Besides a chance at the sweet release of death, which I could have without you, you know.”

I leaned over the table, locked eyes with Lot, didn’t blink. I hadn’t noticed before, but his eyes weren’t exactly black, like the beady eyes of the average Kalamuzi, but blue. A very dark shade of blue.

“You talk like you want to die,” I said. “Like you’re some miserable bastard, too depressed to function and too cowardly to do yourself in. But you don’t want to kill yourself. You want revenge. I could see it in your eyes when you told your story. And when I suggested that you could have led the Kalamuzi in battle, you nearly attacked me right here in your home. Don’t argue, I saw you. You hate them. You wish every last Kalamuzi was dead. Am I wrong?”

“What is the point, Miles?” he asked, head hung.

“Am I wrong?”

“No, you’re not exactly wrong, but-“

“But you gave up,” I finished pointing an accusing finger at him. “Because you were too weak. Because you weren’t fit for it, weren’t the right person for the job. That’s what you tell yourself. But you still hate them. I can see it. You still hate them for what they did to your mother, what they did to innocent people, and what they did to you, what they made you do.”

Lot stood again, but rather than launch himself at me, he began pacing back and forth, not looking at me, his tail whipping violently side-to-side. He was clenching and unclenching his fists, and his breathing quickened. “You are a guest, Miles,” he muttered as if to himself. “But I am warning you. Do not speak of my mother.”

“You’re angry,” I said, standing as well, slamming my fists on the table. The two cups jumped - mine fell over. “Good. Focus on it. Look at me, Lot.”

He turned to face me but wouldn’t meet my eyes. I stepped forward, poking at his chest with one finger.

“Do you feel that?” I asked. “Feel that tightness there? That’s power. That’s what you use to get shit done.”

He swatted my hand away. “Feelings don’t change anything,” he said. He walked over to the other end of the room like he was scared of me, wanted to keep his distance. “It’s impossible.”

“You’re wrong,” I said to his back. “Feelings change everything. You feel like you can’t do anything, so you can’t. But you could. And now, here it is, an opportunity to make the Kalamuzi fucking pay. Are you really going to hide here in your hole and let it pass you by? Will you be able to live with yourself if you don’t even try to avenge your mother?”

He turned to face me. “I warned you, Miles.”

“Fight me, then!” I yelled, arms wide. “Prove that you’re a human being, and not a cold, uncaring rat. Because only a fucking animal hides away in a hole. Only a monster could pretend their own mother didn’t exist.”

“What would you have me do?!” he shouted back. “Kill myself? Sacrifice my life in some noble, pointless charge, one against many, some vainglorious final stand? What would that change?” His voice went low again, almost a whisper. “Nothing. It wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t bring her back.”

“Show me the way inside,” I said again. “And you will be saving two women from suffering the same fate your mother did. That’s not nothing.”

His tail stood rigid and straight as he shook his head. “It can’t be done.” I only stared at him, and he repeated himself, louder. “I’m telling you it can’t be done! Let us imagine that I agree to help you. Then what? I already told you they won’t let me in unless I show that I am loyal to Olsgolon, that- that-.” He wanted to curse her, clearly, but for whatever reason, he didn’t. “So what, I sacrifice you to her? Sacrifice some stranger we find? I’m not doing it. I refuse.”

“Good,” I said. “You’re thinking. Keep going. Is there a back way in? Could we pretend that I was a sacrifice? Would they accept something other than a sacrifice?”

“What is this game, Miles? Fine. No, there is not ‘back way’ in. Every entrance is swarmed with Kalamuzi. And no, we could not ‘pretend’ to sacrifice you. When you take in a sacrifice, especially a live one, it’s a ceremonial occasion. There would be a priest escorting us at the absolute minimum. And the Talker runaway returning? There would be a crowd.”

“And something other than a sacrifice?” I pressed.

“The only other thing they would take would be a pile of treasures,” he said, teeth barred. “Or a breeding slave. And I’m not going to go kidnap some innocent woman just so that you can get your friends back. I don’t care if two is greater than one, and I don’t care if they’re friends of yours. I refuse to do it. So now you see that it’s impossible.”

I was grinning. It was so simple. The idea was absolutely insane, but it could work. It could really work.

Lot’s anger was replaced partially by curiosity. “What are you smiling about, Miles?”

“That’s it,” I said, half to myself. “That’s how we get in. It’s perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

“What is perfect?” he asked credulously.

“The sex slave plan,” I said. “We would be able to walk right to where they’re keeping the girls, no suspicion, no trouble, easy. It’s perfect.”

Lot’s face twisted in disgust. “I told you, I am not going to help you sell some innocent soul into that life. If you go with that plan, I will have no part of it. Kill me, break my bones, light me on fire, I don’t care. I won’t do it.”

“Who said anything about an innocent soul?” I said.

“So that’s it then? You plan on kidnapping a criminal?” He shook his head. “I still refuse. Not even a murderer deserves that.”

I laughed. “You still don’t see it, Lot. It’s because you still haven’t accepted that it possible, still haven’t decided that we’re going to do this. That’s alright. I’ll point it out to you.”

Lot rolled his eyes. “Please, illumine my understanding, my dear guest. How do you propose we get inside without kidnapping someone?”

“We don’t need to kidnap anyone,” I said. “Because we already have our sex slave. Me.”