“Is my weapon not suitable for dueling? Was that the issue?”
Trying to sound sincere, trying to prevent my disgruntlement from seeping through.
“That wasn't why I intervened,” Anderson says.
My challenge to Magpie had been issued at a small town on the northern edge of Swan Lake, during one of our brief, preplanned stops. Each of the previous stops had taken about fifteen to twenty minutes for the merchants to exchange or pick up goods, so it seemed like a prime opportunity. Magpie had initially ignored it, as she'd been ignoring me for hours, but after Wallace and Greene egged her on, and with Anderson more amused than anything else, she finally acknowledged my presence by agreeing. That acknowledgment a success in its own right.
“That wasn't the primary reason I intervened,” Anderson amends.
We had moved a short distance away from the last wagon in the train. Standing several paces apart with no officiator – none needed at this location – and with no terms discussed – the terms fairly self evident – drawing our weapons. With Transference at five, and her weapon and armor in my range, reaching out and deactivating the enhancements on them. The noticeable change causing her to alter the grip on her knife, and her eyes on my weapon, noticing the red glow, but getting into her stance all the same. 'Stop stop stop,' Anderson had yelled, hurrying over. Neither of us initially paying him any mind, instead waiting for the other to make the first move.
“But no,” Anderson continues saying, “it's not suitable. There are rules about that sort of thing.” Trying not to reveal my annoyance. “I realize Grace hasn't been very welcoming, but you shouldn't take it personally. You're a volunteer, whereas she had less of a choice. That's undoubtedly a large contributing factor to her attitude.”
“Sir,” giving a salute, “permission to speak freely?”
His mouth hanging slightly open for a moment. “You don't need to salute me, or Daniel, or anyone here. That's not how we operate. And if one of the Empire's soldiers here sees you saluting me, it may cause issues.” Tapping his temple. “We're not in Lumeer anymore, and they have a habit of keeping an eye on us.”
“Yes, sir.” Dropping the salute. “Permission to speak freely?”
“Listen, again,” his hand moving to his cheek, “that's not how we operate. I don't know what got drilled into you, but there's no need for that level of formality. Speak your mind.”
“Yes, sir.” Standing on my tippy toes and throwing my finger in his face. “You should've stayed out of it. It was none of your fucking business.”
Momentarily taken aback, then the whiskers on his hour past five o'clock shadowed face bristling. “Of course it's my business, and the whole thing was over some petty nothing. As far as I'm concerned you were the one antagonizing her. She probably just wasn't in the mood to talk.”
“With me.”
“Yeah, with you. It's not the end of the world, talk with someone else.”
“Do you know why I joined up with you guys on this?”
“Well,” says Anderson, slow and deliberate, “if you want to know, I do have my suspicions. Macarthy. Tell me if I'm off base. The way I see it, your psycho brother went haywire, and because he's been running around town murdering people left and right, you're trying to get some distance from him.”
“That's-”
“Hold on. I don't know how he treated Grace back when they knew each other, but she obviously doesn't like you very much as a result. It isn't fair to you, I know, but give her some time and give her some space.”
“That's totally ludicrous.” His baseless slander making me hiss. “And that's not my brother. Do you think they would have let me come along if it was? That was the first question I got asked when I joined up with you guys.” Taking a deep breath trying to steady myself. “I'm the person least responsible for all that, but you aren't wrong, that whole thing is part of the reason wanted to get out of town. You know why else I joined up?”
“Why's that?” Quiet, chastened.
“You guys seemed real nice. Roy and Liz, at least. Real nice.”
“Today, with her, I had assumed,” he starts to explain, before shaking his head. “I misunderstood. I'll have a talk with Grace and I'll let her know. I can't promise anything, but I'll see what I can do. Is there anything you want me to say?”
“Nothing especially, sir, but thank you, sir.” Doing an about face and leaving Anderson's tent, trying to swallow my rage.
Ishtar may not have been the best choice. Solstice may have been smarter, could've met up with Snatch. An image of him entering my minds eye, giving me pause. No, maybe not. Dealing with Rath was awkward enough, he'd be even worse. Taking another step and then someone else appearing, stopping me short. No no no, hurriedly dismissing the vision. Omen would be guaranteed trouble, and Haven's a deathtrap. Shaking my head, trying to clear it, trying to get back on task.
The caravan had been allowed to shelter for the night inside the walls of the fort. It was a popular stopping point for merchants: at the junction of two main roads and located between Lumeer and the marginally larger, and more urbane, city of Cress. There was an open space already set aside for us, with a couple outhouses to serve as a latrine. As nominal citizens of the Empire – we pay citizenship fees, at the very least – we had been welcomed inside after a somewhat lengthy inspection process. The whole thing had sped up considerably after Four Corners and Windward made contributions to the officer overseeing the inspections.
Maybe Blindside can help with this, but where is he? They're making dinner over there, smells like, but he's not over there. And neither is she. Tent, tent, tent. These are all us. Didn't think to bring a tent. Only need to ask and one of them is bound to offer, but there're bound to be strings with that kind of offer. Mostly clear sky, should be fine for tonight without needing to present myself as an offering, bound by those kinds of strings.
Huh, don't see either of them around here, either. Only the merchants we're escorting and, over there, some of the Empire's soldiers. Well, either it'll be a problem or it won't. The sun's starting to go down and dinner's going to be ready soon. Let's see, my pack's still over here, tucked away. Exactly how it was left. Maybe my paranoia's just on overdrive. Magpie'll calm down, and Hugh seems reasonable. And while all these men have wandering eyes, it'll do me good to remember that's how men are. That's life now, shouldn't take it personal, and shouldn't assume their glances are threats. Can't blame them for how they're made.
Oh well, catch more flies with honey than vinegar, should head back and- nevermind, there she is, heading that way. Need to catch up and try to- and she's found Blindside. Tugging on his arm. Heading off in that other direction, away from where we'd set up.
Following after from a safe distance, carefully stalking after their silhouettes in the twilight. Magpie fading from sight, and then, a moment later, Blindside following suit. No you don't, that's not going to fool me. Studying the area where they had been, in the direction they had been heading. There you are – a distortion in the air betraying their position – and then one, then the other, coming back into my view. The two had slightly changed course, making a thirty degree turn, heading in the direction of some long, rectangular buildings - probably barracks - before disappearing around a corner. Hurrying after.
“-all the way out here. What's going on?” Blindside's voice becoming more audible.
“I'm planning on frying up that fresh fish,” Magpie says, as if she's discussing dinner.
“Mags,” he says, “I don't think that's a good idea.”
“Bee, I only got dragged into this because of you. I was perfectly fine playing hostess and serving drinks. It's easy and I make decent tips.”
“Perfectly fine? Could've fooled me. How about you try and enjoy the trip instead of trying to find things you don't like.”
“I'm trying, but I can't stand that fucking bitch. I hate the way she acts, I hate the way she talks, I hate all her stupid fucking bullshit. And you know what I just had to deal with? Hugh told me – gave me an order – to be nice to her.”
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“So? Maybe you should. She's just some rambunctious first year.” Blindside letting out a chuckle. “Tommy said she challenged you to a duel.” Magpie making a derisive noise. “She's probably trying to make a good impression.”
“Did Tommy say that?” A pause. “Tommy's an idiot. He doesn't see it because he's thinking about something else, same thing with Hugh and Bert. But there's nothing innocent about her. Nothing at all. Well, maybe Hugh sees it.” Magpie stopping abruptly. “Hey, Bee, why do you think Mac's doing what he's doing?”
“Mac? Why are you bringing him up?” Another pause. “Well, he's clearly sending a message. Real public and real loud. I don't know to who, exactly. Maybe to everybody.”
“Sly would know.”
“Yeah, he'd definitely know.”
“I wish Sly was here now.”
“You sure? What'd Sly say if he saw you, all bent out of shape because of some newbie?”
“He'd make fun of me, but he'd cheer me up doing it - and he'd be more supportive than you.”
“At least you understand you deserve to be made fun of.” A pause. “So, are you wiling to give her a chance?”
“Nope.” Magpie's declaration short and sweet. “I wasn't sure before, but talking with Hugh clinched it.” A pause. “Bee, how would Mac deal with a problem?”
“I think we both know how Mac deals with problems.”
“And everyone snaps into shape as a result.”
Magpie, you've definitely grown up. Proud of you. And thanks for the compliment.
“Mags, I still don't think it's a good idea, and I don't think anything good's going to come of it. I'm not going get involved - she hasn't done anything to me - and she hasn't really done anything to you.”
“All I need's an alibi, she won't even know what hit her.”
Silence.
“Alright, but give her a couple more days, at least. Wait until we get into town. Maybe it's first day jitters on her part, or maybe you'll feel different. If you still feel like doing it, we'll get our story straight, then.”
“I'm glad I could count on you, Bee. At least for this.” A pause. “I'll see you in a bit, I need to deal with something else first, real quick.”
Footsteps moving away. It sounds like they're done talking. Wait, some footsteps coming this way, too. It's time to nip this whole thing in the bud.
Trying not to curse. The figure appearing not Magpie. Only a couple extra blinks betraying Blindside's surprise as he comes around the corner.
“I take it you heard,” he says, breaking our brief stalemate. “You really got under her skin.”
“That's on her.”
Blindside taking me in, not a once over, instead a real appraisal. Noting my stance, then lingering on the stitched design on my glove, resting on the hilt of my knife, just above my stomach.
“I've known Grace for a couple years,” he says. “She's got a bit of a temper, but I can usually get her to cool down.” Adding, with the unmistakable undertone of a threat. “I consider her family.”
“She's the one who started it. I'd prefer we got along.” Removing my hand. “Hugh says she's probably angry because they made her come out here. Why'd they make her come?”
“We're shorthanded.” Waiting for him to elaborate, but he doesn't. “I'll talk to her. I'm Adrian, by the way. Welcome aboard.” Holding out his hand, seemingly as a peace offering.
“Lucy.”
Preparing for immediate betrayal, but Blindside releasing my hand and affecting an affable smile. “You feel like grabbing dinner?” he asks.
***
Joining the meal already in progress, the rest of the Ishtar group relaxing around a campfire, the sun now completely down. A hearty bean and pork stew. A touch plain, needs more pepper, or something, at the very least. Making some small talk with the others as Blindside still exudes affability. Magpie and Anderson arriving fifteen minutes later, no longer wearing armor.
After dinner a couple bottles of liquor being opened and passed. Pretending to take a sip from each on the first go around. Watching everyone else imbibe. On the second pass, holding the second bottles between my legs, filling it with mana and creating a copy. Passing it along. Then, a minute later, faking another drink and passing around the original.
Watching everyone else gradually becoming more drunk, except for Daniel and Anderson, who stopped fairly early. One of the others pulling out a guitar, the sound of Bardsong spreading good vibes and cheer.
Magpie getting progressively more giggly and flirtatious from song to song, now basically sitting in Anderson's lap. Watching her out of the corner of my eye. Waiting. The girl getting up, a little unsteady on her feet, and heading off in the direction of the outhouses. Excusing myself a minute later. Going in a different direction, but then looping around. Waiting outside.
The outhouse door opening and Magpie exiting, stepping delicately, clearly inebriated. Glancing to her left, seeing me closing in, knife in hand, and making a panicked sound. Pulling out her own, barely clearing the sheath, then being touched by my gloved hand and her movement instantly stopping. The Rune Trap sewn on the back of the glove taking effect. Her eyes rolling around trying to figure out what had happened, then lightly toppling to the side. Rolling her on her back, peeling away the fingers on her knife, and taking it away from her.
“This is really nice.” Giving her throat a little prick with her own knife.
A scream trying to develop, but without being able to move, it could create much volume. Dirt crunching nearby. Sounds like someone's coming this way. Maybe Anderson or one of the others, too loud to be Blindside - he wouldn't make a sound. No harm in letting them hear this. Better, in fact, if they do. And, if it does turn bad, better to die on this side of the mountains and end up back in town. Better than getting all the way to the desert and risk possibly ending up who knows where. Should be fast enough with the shield to block the initial strike, if it comes to that.
“I know you're planning on killing me.” Practically shouting. There's no need to hide. “But, to be honest, I'd rather be friends.” Her eyes looking at me, then over my shoulder. Hope appearing in them. Silly Magpie.
“You're either going to be able to kill me or not. But, even if you do, that's not going to stop me. I'm going to come back and I'm going to find you. And then you know what I'm going to do? It'll be just like this.” Waving her own knife in her face. “But next time I'm going to take this knife and I'm going to pry open your mouth. And then I'm going to get one of those magical scarabs. You know the ones.” Her eyes back to me, unmistakable fear in them now. “I'm going to put it on your tongue, and then it's going to crawl around inside you until it reaches your heart. But, like I said, I'd rather be friends.” Moisture collecting. Starting to roll down her face.
A man behind me clearing his throat. Turning my head, expecting to see Anderson. It's Daniel.
Considering me, considering the paralyzed Magpie, considering his words for a moment before speaking. “I'd heard from Adrian what you were planning to do Grace, and I was coming to talk to you about it.” Looking at me. “But you, apparently, already have it in hand.” Considering us again. “Both of you, come with me.”
Getting to my feet and handing Daniel Magpie's knife, hilt first.
“What'd you do to her?” he asks.
“She's fine. She'll be along in a second.”
Waiting roughly twenty seconds, then Magpie letting out a loud gasp, sucking in air to compensate for her previously reduced lung capacity. Dabbing at her face with a sleeve, and then both of us following Daniel back to the fire with everyone.
“Grace,” he announces, “has something to say everyone. An apology. We're getting this all out in the open, and then we're moving on.”
Magpie scowling as the entire group looks at her.
“Fine,” spitting the word, “Lucy, I'm sorry I was planning to kill you. I'm not going to do it.” Addressing the other members. “I'm sorry.”
The Ishtar members regarding her with some mild surprise.
“Good,” says Daniel. “Lucy, you need to apologize, too.”
“What for?”
“For what you threatened to do.”
The group all looking at me. An apology?
“Grace, I'm sorry I said I was going to pry open your mouth with my knife and put a scarab on your tongue.” My grin getting wider. “And then it was going to crawl down your throat, burrow inside you and suck out your blood, until finally it ate your heart.” Giving her a nasty look. “My apologies.”
Everyone's eyes all staying on me, with the only sound the crackling fire.
“That was not an apology,” Daniel says. “You fucking children. Okay, if that's how it's going to be, that's how it's going to be. You two are going to be best friends this trip - stay within fifteen feet of each other at all times.” Pointing at Magpie. “Grace, if anything happens to her, I'm going to blame you. And if anything happens to you, I'm going to blame her. You're both going to get along real nice. Okay?”
“Okay.” “Okay,” she says.
“Now go to fucking bed.”
Looking at each other, then following Magpie to get her gear at Anderson's tent. Both of us heading back to mine, stored under one of the wagons. Unfurling my bedroll and getting ready for bed. Magpie now in hers, facing the other way. Getting in mine, knife in hand, and keeping an eye on her. Waiting for something, but nothing coming. Listening for sounds from the surrounding encampment. Nothing coming. Tired from walking all day, closing my eyes, but still trying to listen to see if anyone is coming.