After some discussion, I relayed to Muleater what I knew about the crate, which was very little.
I knew that it gave the same sense as the infested creatures, though radiating pain and discomfort more so than anything else. I also knew that the infested creatures appeared interested in the crate when I had fled the caravan.
We actually were unsure if the crate belonged to Charson at all, or if it were a coincidence. Neither of us thought it was coincidental, but it was still a possibility.
If that were all we knew, then we likely would have given Charson a possible pass on the guilt for drawing the mucary towards us.
But it turned out that Charson and Stillson had both been barred from the Mercenaries Guild for a reason. They had both been caraveening south of the chasm, in the jungles, and whatever had happened had been bad enough that the Mercenaries held a grudge.
It was important to note that caravans were lost on the regular, and the Mercenaries guild hardly ever blocklisted anybody.
Whatever happened down there, must have been bad. Or, or Stillson had done something to anger the leaders of the guild.
Regardless, neither Muleater nor I came away from our deliberations with any concrete advantage. Thus tired, we retired for the evening.
The next day, I once again found myself separated from Muleater. The mucary had escorted me to the southern ledge of the crater, where Emboru waited, watching out over the horizon.
At least I assumed that was what Emboru was doing.
As they lacked eyes, or any clear front or back, it was difficult to tell for certain.
When I joined them, I scanned the horizon. We remained in such a way for several moments, until they commenced communications.
Out on the horizon of the bleak and twisted wastes, before a series of hills in the distance, I thought I saw a uniform, regular, and rigid pattern. Though at the distance, I could barely make out more than that. I was unsure how far away they even were, but at least several days by foot, considering the terrain.
But the colors were just a tad too vibrant, with too many whites and reds and blacks. And even if they were specs, whatever it was failed to match the scenery. And while I would hesitate to call anything ‘unnatural’ in this mothersworn world, I thought that this might count.
“Is that… Are those… people?” I asked hesitantly.
That boded… not poorly, but not necessarily beneficial either.
The humans and the mucary had shown hostilities between each other, but the mucary were firmly entrenched in this valley, and from what I had seen of humans thus far, I doubted they could do much against the infested. There were just too many of them, and they spread too quickly.
But then I remembered Alchemist Charson, and how such small vials could release such large areas of esoteric malicious effects. And that was just one alchemist. Presumably, there were better alchemists out there.
I decided that this did in fact bode poorly for me. Especially if those large area of effect attacks were released while I remained with the mucary.
I needed more details to be certain of the risk, prior to making any plans of either escape, defecting, or offering aid.
“How many of them, and do they know you’re here?”
I was unable to think of a way to politely and tactfully ask if they thought that the humans would destroy them, and me, by association or proximity.
Emboru answered as I thought.
A tribe… but what was that in numbers? I would have dug in further, but I smelled no concern from Emboru, instead, the mucary gave off a feeling reminiscent of anticipation. Of… vengeance?
“Will you attack them?” I asked.
However, I thought that I would venture a thought, the suspicion that both Muleater and I had corroborated upon the evening prior.
“You seek the Alchemist Charson?” I asked.
They remained ‘silent,’ instead encouraging me to continue. Whether it would accomplish worsening my circumstances or not, that was the risk. In this instance, I measured the risk as light, and the opportunity as great. Thus, I continued.
“Or what the alchemist was transporting… something related to you and your nest–”
Anger flashed out from their presence, though not directed at me. Coupled with that was a touch of longing and loss.
From what I knew of the mucary, they cared little for the individuals of their society, at least not the infested. Thus, if a so-called ‘wyrkwik’ had been captured and pacified, Emboru would likely not overly care. Especially not if it was solely an infested creature. Which left a question: what had the alchemist been transporting in that crate? An idea began to coalesce.
Judging from the volatile emotions, I would need to be careful. Best to ease in indirectly from a neighboring topic.
“What do I call those of the mucary such as you, versus the rest of them?” I finished by pointing and sweeping at the infested creatures, both the guardsmen and the animals that chaperoned our discussion.
Emboru failed to understand my question, instead radiating confusion. To them, there was no difference. But clearly there was a hierarchy here. My own confusion must have been evident.
They nodded, then gestured at my head, then at my hand.
Perhaps I had read too much into their ability to understand facial expressions, or I was perhaps sending mixed signals. This vexed me.
“But this is not that. What can I call the leaders of your people?”
A scent that was pure and sweet and honey-like wafted off them. Were I to compare the idea to anything, it would be a royal jelly, a monarch… but more youthful, more vibrant. It snapped into place, and I realized what they were communicating.
“And the others?” I asked, referring to the infested creatures.
The scent, while still sweet, now mixed with earthy tones and hints of copper that carried just a bit of tang.
“How many
They radiated a sense of bubbling laughter, though they remained silent, though they did not shake or move. Or really change at all. And yet, they were laughing. At me. I squashed the feelings of anger and tried my best to keep them from affecting my scent. I forced a smile.
“Fine,” I said, almost snapped. And then, instead of attempting to use scent to communicate, I used words. “Princesses then, the heir of the monarch. Unless you’re the Queen? The royal we and all?”
“Pr-incehss,” the infested guard croaked. “Pr-incehss Emm-bohru.”
That works then. “How many other Princesses count among the Vaul Macury?”
It took some processing to figure that out. The imagery though, was a single trunk that split to two saplings, except with roots instead. Which was an interesting deviation and was worth noting, but not at that moment.
“You and one other?”
Which, if I understood it, “Is the Root your parent?”
It was coming together. “How?” I asked.
A leading question on my end, certainly. But oblique angles of attack, to keep the anger and mal-empathy focused on other targets.
“How did they capture your sibling?” I ventured the specification, though it was a gamble, I felt I had understanding of what drove Emboru.
A potent smell of rotten eggs and stress momentarily overwhelmed me, which was a deeper and richer version of anger and self-castigation if I understood it correctly. Their tendrils writhed within their chest, making their ‘ribs’ dance like a squid trapped in clear gel. While not horrifying, at least not to me, it would take some getting used to. I supposed anyone would look strange with translucent flesh.
A part of that message was lost. The honey scent I associated with royalty, but deeper, spicier, almost with a hint of cinnamon.
“Ahhll-Rrooht.” The infested guardsman offered in their broken voice as an explanation.
“Not warriors then?” I asked. The infested shook their heads. “I am surprised, considering the attack and the hounding.”
I remembered the Caravan Master’s stories of the jungle trade routes, specifically, their being overrun, and entire exploration parties lost, along with some of the follow up recovery parties, until the routes were finally moved.
But if this group, or Vaul Root, considered themselves somewhat pacified, then if someone were to target the macury, that might be where they would focus. A softer target. Especially if that person was able to leave the consequences of a riled up nest of infested plant monsters to someone else.
“Was it the Alchemist Charson that stole your twin then?” I asked, finally laying it all out there.
Mixed signals then. So I was partly right? Emboru might not know for certain then. But that brought up another question. Entirely relevant.
“Were you able to capture the alchemist?” I asked. I figured that some vengeance for Kissen’s sake might be warranted.
But, Emboru’s potent scent grew bitter.
“But you recovered the crate. Was that not what you were looking for?”
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
“But that crate was–”
Their scent turned putrid and was so overpowering that I took an involuntary step back, my hackles raised. They loomed over me, focusing their attention on me, growing, stretching. I cowered.
“Sorry,” I said softly, almost a whisper.
We remained like that for several long seconds, until the scent began to dissipate.
I nodded, glad to be out from under the very much negative emotion, and very grateful to be given such a graceful out.
During the interim of ‘silence,’ they turned their attention back southward. It was now clear that they were observing the humans. I took that to mean that the encroaching humans were the reason I was brought here, and that the conversation was yet to be concluded, as I had yet to be taken back to the pit.
But still, I was nervous to speak once more.
So I waited.
And waited.
What felt like an hour passed. The scent of bitterness slowly dissipated, until naught but a hint of it remained. Tiring of the silence, and figuring that they expected me to query, I gathered the courage to speak.
“You said those humans might not be involved earlier. Did you find out otherwise?” I asked, hoping to learn more about the range of their almost psychic connection with their drones. If their drones were scouting the humans, which I assumed they were. Then the range would be quite large.
“Southbridge,” I said, beating the infested guardsman to the punch. “You believe your–” I cut myself off before I mentioned their sibling directly. Instead, I lamely switched to “-target, is held in Southbridge?”
“From what I have heard of the city, it would take a fairly large army to breach the place, at least if you went with brute force. And the casualties would likely be high… at least, if that is something you care about, which I think it is since you have so far spared Muleater.”
They seemed thoughtful, but not upon my words, instead upon myself. As though they were weighing me based on my own deductions. I wondered if this was a test. They wanted to know if I was clever. They wanted to know my skill set. Because they wanted someone to sneak in. Which I thought I might be able to accomplish.
I had my bargaining chip then.
“Infiltration. Which explains your interest in me.”
A touch of sweetness began flowing through the conversation again.
“I…”
I likely could easily enter and leave the city, especially if humans had integrated kunbeorn as servants within their hierarchies. But saying that would reduce the amount I could ask for. It would reduce my worth. However, I could not say that the task was impossible, because then what purpose would Emboru have with keeping me around? It was a middle ground I needed to walk.
“I might be able to help.”
What did I need from them? Currently I was at their mercy, but if I were to aid them, I would leave their power and venture into an enemy’s domain. Therefore, if they were intelligent, they would offer incentives to ensure my continued cooperation, even after I reached the human city.
“I am hesitating, but not because I doubt myself,” I explained, opening negotiations. “I am skilled at what I think you need. If you need eyes in the city, a way to find evidence of macury, and to perhaps thieve them away in the night–I am uniquely suited to do that, especially as many fail to notice the particulars of the macury presence.”
“What?” I asked, caught by surprise. “How would you know what I’m capable of?”
That confidence would make the sale easier, but at the same time, that they were monitoring me for so long left an uneasy flavor in my maw. How easily would it be for them to track me once I left them?
However, that would be a problem for later. Currently, I needed to know what sort of concessions I could negotiate.
“But there would be difficulties,” I hedged.
“The humans do not treat people like–” I waved at myself, “-well.”
They were making me spell it out then. “I would be happier avoiding them altogether.”
The lowest were the highest? Perhaps in a different society. But not with humans. Unless they meant that the lowest had access to the highest because the highest employed and ignored the lowest? I decided to speak my first objection clearly.
“I am not someone’s pet.”
At this point, several of the infested were approaching our position. One of them was carrying a very familiar satchel. Another one was carrying an oiled and waxed chest.
I scoffed, a bit more bombastically than I felt, but I needed to put on a show of confidence.
“No. But the displeasure of infiltrating the humans will need to be compensated.”
Their next comment caught me off-guard.
If. If I was. I am human.
But they would not understand, if I even broached the subject.
“The infiltration would be easier in some ways if I was,” I said. “But how…” I trailed off as they lifted the waxed and oiled chest.
“Is… is…” I stuttered, feeling faint, weak. Suddenly my body once again felt too alien, like a layer of latex covering my skin, suffocating me. Now that there was a potential solution? It would be too cruel for this to be a simple tactic, or a deceit, on the mucary’s part.
“That…” I was still tongue tied.
The chest. A grimoire? I was unsure if I could believe them. But if it was the case? And this was a land of magic. I had to admit that it might be possible. At least, I lacked the knowledge to disprove it.
Yet still, I hesitated.
If this was true, then this artifact, the grimoire, was rare, expensive. Valuable. Was this what they would pay me with? How would I even know it works, or how to use it?
“Y-yes. Please.”
They opened the chest, removing a clear gel seal, similar to their own flesh. Within was padded velvet, and a small leather-bound book with a clear gem embedded to the front… and that was it. A book. Other than the runes engraved in flowing patterns, and the maybe-diamond-gem like blade on the cover, but other than that, I saw nothing to indicate incredible value.
“That’s it?” I asked, feigning some disinterest. “I don’t understand how this would work.”
At the same time, I was ogling the large, hand-length gem knife that was embedded into the thick cover. That alone must have been worth something. The very book radiated power. And if a tattoo could empower me, then what could this book do?
“But it’s a book,” I said, catching my confidence. Now to downplay the offering.
“Fine then, how would this alleged grimoire turn me ba–into a human?”
<...all grimoires carry spores divine, transmutation, spirit. You, have … can hold the spell. Influence … selection, spell received per need, spell received per capability. Difficulty, explanation. Frustration.>
A jumble of ideas meshed together, until the slew was such a mess that I struggled to parse what they were trying to get across. But if I captured the jist, the grimoire actually could provide any spell, and I could somehow influence the selection. While I could not pick up all the intent they sent, I thought they referred to my Marks.
I anticipated that they were using my Marks as an illustration to help them communicate, so I complied with their request. I pulled my jacket off, noticing dourly that the jacket was growing incredibly stained and worn, though the leather had held up better than it should have thus far.
“I lost the one here,” I waved my left arm. “But I still have this.” I showed them my right forearm, where my mark had been growing throughout all my travails. It now stretched around and almost enclosed my arm in flowing runes.
I hesitated once more. It was a barter. We were bartering. I could not simply roll over at the first offer. Even assuming that the grimoire worked, and that I received a spell that would allow me to ‘infiltrate’ the humans effectively, that would still leave me at a disadvantage. I would need more.
I showed my left arm, or rather, the stump.
“Is there another grimoire to regrow body parts?” I asked.
They paused, considering.
It had been a longshot I supposed. I remained silent though, a common negotiation tactic. I would allow them to make a counter offer. They were not rushed. I turned my attention back on the horizon. Towards the humans. They must have made camp already. It seemed like they had stopped moving at least, though hard to tell for certain.
I turned back to them. So they could restore my missing body part? Why had they not led with that then?
I felt a chill. What if they wanted to pay half now and half later? I wanted both items beforehand though.
“What if I offer collateral?” I said, hoping. But what could I have to offer as collateral, other than my flesh.
But, it had already been in their possession to keep. They could have easily kept the fact from me that they had my bag. I had not seen it since before the caravan. It had been a while, and I had not been in the best of conditions when I parted with it.
So why were they showing me it, offering it, as though it were mine to barter with? That did not seem exactly right. There had to be something more to it. I opened up the satchel and began digging through the items.
One by one, as I showed them to Emboru as potential collateral, they were shot down. And of course they were. Why would Emboru express an interest in anything that they had technically just been in possession of. There had to be more to it, something binding, something that kept them from simply absconding with… my hands settled onto something that I had forgotten.
The egg-like object.
It was nearly obsidian black, the size of two of my hands pressed together, and covered in a silver marking that matched one on my own stomach, over my ribs, and under my fur.
I had forgotten about that.
In all the uncertainty and chaos, I had little chance to truly consider what it meant. But the egg, if it was an egg, was bound to me. Which would explain Emboru’s incentive to show me it. They wanted the egg?
The radiated amusement.
“This?” I asked, holding it out to them. They did not take hold of it, instead allowing me to continue holding it. “Why? What is it?”
“High Silver,” the infested guard said.
“That does not sound good.”
Right, I remembered that a little, from what I picked up while traveling with the humans. There were six majors: arms, neck (both sides), and stomach (both sides). The lessers were legs and lower back. All together, the possible sites for marking added up to nine.
“How does it hatch, if it’s that old? Why hasn’t it yet?”
<...>
I was unable to follow. One of the infested guards spoke.
“Li-hh-vingh Ge-hmm.”
Living gem? I was not sure what that was.
“Just any gem then?” I saw the stone on the grimoire. I needed to test this. Not that it would work, but that the source of information was accurate.
I tried pushing the stone from the grimoire against it. Lightning fast, the tendrils stopped me from finishing the motion.
Another piece of evidence that they were speaking the truth. They pulled the egg and grimoire chest away, keeping them apart.
“Sorry,” I said. “I was testing it. So that’s the deal, the book and the arm for help finding your twin?”
They remained unmoving and silent, regarding me. I wondered if I had potentially ruined the deal. A part of me began to worry.
“And you hold onto the egg.”
After another pause, they agreed.
“Great. How do I get the arm then?” I asked. I know that they said it was costly. I was somewhat eager to start.
They did waft irritation and anger, mixed with disappointment. I perhaps regretted testing them. It had been impulsive and foolish. Embarrassing. Those were not the hallmark traits of a promising thief.
We all paused.
“Yeah?” I asked.
What?
Emboru tapped the gem-like knife.
Blessings: Rank (1/9)
* Body: 65
* Mind: 75
* Spirit: 49
Talents:
* Athleticism (3/9):
* Climbing I (1/9)
* Featherlight (5/9)
* Stealth I (4/9)
* Trackless Tracks (8/9)
* Alchemical Immunity (ineligible for growth)
* Eschiver (2/9)
* Evasion (6/9)
Spells:
* Illusion I (5/9)
* Touch (6/9)
* Closed
* Closed
Gifts:
* Obsession (3/9)
* Closed (0/9)
* Closed (0/9)